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THE  SYSTEM  OF 
ANIMATE  NATURE 


THE   GIFFORD    LECTURES   DELIVERED    IN 

THE   UNIVERSITY   OF   ST.  ANDREWS 

IN   THE    YEARS    1915    AND    1916 


i  BY 

,^     J> ARTHUR   THOMSON,    M.A.,    LL.D. 

Professor  of  Natural  History  in  the  University  of  Aberdeen 


IN  TWO   VOLUMES 
Vol.  I 


NEW   YORK 

HENRY   HOLT   AND   COMPANY 

1920 


Copyright.  1920 

BY 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


mt  eqtnn  &  goben    Company 

BOOK      MANUFACTURERS 
RAHWAV  NEW     JtRSEY 


GRATEFULLY  INSCRIBED  TO 
MY  TEACHER,  COLLEAGUE,  AND  FRIEND, 

PROFESSOR  PATRICK  GEDDES 


PROPERTY  '         ^f^y 

^'  ^  STATE  COLLEGE 


"  All  depends  on  keeping  the  eye  steadily  fixed  on  the  facts 
of  nature  and  so  receiving  their  images  simply  as  they  are. 
For  God  forbid  that  we  should  give  out  a  dream  of  our  imagi- 
nation for  a  pattern  of  the  world :  rather  may  He  graciously 
grant  us  to  write  an  apocalypse  or  true  vision  of  the  foot- 
steps of  the  Creator  imprinted  on  His  creatures.'' 

Bacon 

"  This  I  dare  affirm  in  knowledge  of  Nature,  that  a  little 
natural  philosophy,  and  the  first  entrance  into  it,  doth  dispose 
the  opinion  to  atheism,  but  on  the  other  side,  much  natural 
philosophy  and  wading  deep  into  it,  will  bring  about  men's 
minds  to  religion." 

Bacon 


PKEFACE 

It  was  evidently  the  desire  of  the  founder  of  the  Gifford 
Lectureships  in  the  Scottish  Universities  that  each  lecturer 
should,  from  his  own  special  studies  and  in  his  own  way, 
endeavour  to  make  some  contribution  that  would  help  others 
in  considering  the  highest  questions  that  Man  can  ask :  What 
kind  of  world  is  this  in  which  we.  live — a  universe  or  a 
multiverse  ?  How  has  it  come  to  be  as  it  is  ?  Does  it  give 
any  hint  of  a  purpose?  What  is  Man^s  place  in  Nature? 
To  what  extent  does  our  knowledge  of  Nature  conform  with 
our  conception  of  God  ? 

Lord  Giiford  contemplated  the  possibility  of  very  varied 
answers  to  these  and  similar  questions;  he  thought  it  pos- 
sible that  some  of  them  might  be  held  to  be  unanswerable; 
his  one  stipulation  was  for  reverent  study. 

Under  provisions  so  liberal,  no  apology  need  be  made  for 
a  contribution  which  is  scientific  rather  than  philosophical, 
being  in  the  main  confined  to  the  biological  outlook.  What- 
ever be  our  philosophical  interpretation  or  our  religious  con- 
viction, we  must  admit  the  desirability  of  having  more  than 
a  passing  acquaintance  with  the  system  of  things  of  which 
our  everyday  life  is  in  some  measure  part.  The  idea  of 
Nature  as  a  temptress  leading  man's  soul  astray  has  long 
since  disappeared,  and  most  of  us  turn  to  Nature  with  ex- 
pectancy, varying  with  our  temperament  and  experience. 
If  the  world  we  call  "  outer  "  be  in  any  sense  God's  creation, 
will  it  not  reveal  to  us  something  of  Him  ?  If  it  be  our  chief 
end  to  glorify  God,  should  we  not  put  ourselves  in  the  way 


vi  PREFACE 

of  intellectually  enjoying  the  works  of  His  hands?  If 
Nature  is  expressing  a  thought,  may  we  not  try  to  spell  this 
out  by  patient  observation  ?  Even  if  we  have  no  philosophi- 
cal or  religious  preconceptions  of  this  sort,  we  are  likely  to 
understand  our  own  life  better  by  inquiring  into  the  order 
of  things  in  which  we  are  immersed,  sometimes,  perhaps, 
almost  submerged. 

The  aim  of  this  study  of  Animate  Nature  is  to  state  the 
general  results  of  biological  inquiry  which  must  be  taken  ac- 
count of  if  we  are  to  think  of  organic  Nature  as  a  whole  and 
in  relation  to  the  rest  of  our  experience.  Both  among  care- 
ful thinkers  and  careless  passers-by  views  of  organic  Nature 
are  held,  in  regard,  for  instance,  to  the  organism  as  mechan- 
ism, the  determinism  of  heredity,  the  struggle  for  existence, 
which  seem  to  the  author  to  be  lacking  in  accuracy  or  in 
adequacy,  which  therefore  tend  to  involve  unnecessary  diffi- 
culties in  systematisation  and  perhaps  gratuitous  confusion 
in  conduct.  It  has  been  declared  by  some  that  the  world  of 
life  is  "  a  dismal  cockpit ",  that  in  the  behaviour  of  living 
creatures  mind  is  a  negligible  quantity,  that  the  study  of 
heredity  must  leave  us  fatalistic,  and  that  evolution  is  largely 
"  a  chapter  of  accidents  ".  Such  views  engender  what  may 
be  called  natural  irreligion,  and  it  is  the  object  of  this  course 
to  show  that  such  views  are  scientifically  untenable. 

Nature  doubtless  presents  many  puzzling  features,  but  care 
must  be  taken  to  make  sure  that  what  seem  to  be  uncon- 
formabilities  are  not  due  to  the  inadequacy  of  our  knowl- 
edge. While  trying  to  keep  wishes  from  fathering  thoughts, 
we  have  been  led  in  our  study  to  see  that  the  general  results  of 
Biology,  when  stated  with  accuracy,  are  not  out  of  line  with 
transcendental  conclusions  reached  along  other  paths, — con- 
clusions which  different  minds  express  in  different  forms. 


PREFACE  vii 

It  looks  as  if  Nature  were  much  more  conformable  than  is 
often  supposed  to  religious  interpretation,  hut  we  have  not 
seen  it  to  he  our  duty  to  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  man. 
We  have  tried  to  keep  as  close  as  possible  to  the  facts  of  the 
case,  leaving  philosophical  and  religious  inferences  for 
those  who  are  better  qualified  to  draw  them. 

Our  endeavour  to  present  the  scientific  view  of  Animate 
Nature  has  often  led  only  to  a  disappointing  balancing  of 
alternative  formulations,  for  science  abounds  in  open  ques- 
tions; it  has  also  involved  considerable  noise  of  facts  through- 
out the  lectures,  for  there  is  no  other  way  of  getting  beyond 
mere  opinions.  But  it  will  bo  understood  that  the  appeal  to 
facts  is  not  exactly  for  their  own  sake,  as  in  a  course  of  lec- 
tures on  descriptive  Biology,  but  as  a  basis  for  those  distinc- 
tive biological  and  psycho-biological  concepts  of  organism, 
behaviour,  development,  heredity,  evolution,  and  so  on,  which 
must  be  included  in  a  philosophical  view  of  Nature. 

It  would  be  ungracious  not  to  use  this  opportunity  of 
thanking  many  friends  in  St.  Andrews  and  Dundee — espe- 
cially Principal  Sir  John  Herkless  and  Principal  John  Yule 
Mackay — ^from  whom  I  received  much  kindness  while  de- 
livering these  lectures. 

University  of  Aberdeen, 
May,  1919. 


CONTENTS 

PART  I. 
THE  REALM  OP  ORGANISMS  AS  IT  IS. 

LECTURE  J, 

PAQE 

THE     UN  FATHOMED      UNIVERSE     AND     THE     AIM     OF 

SCIENCE 3 

§  1.  Man's  Early  Outlook  on  Naturt",  3 — §2.  Growing  Rec- 
ognition of  a  Scientific  Order,  4 — §  3.  Aims  of  Science,  8 — 
§4.  Limitations  of  Natural  Knowledge,  13 — §6.  The  Func- 
tion of  Feeling  in  our  View  of  Nature,  25 — §  6.  Towards 
a  Philosophical  Interpretation  of  Nature,  34 — §  7.  Science 
and  Religion,  39. 

LECTURE  //. 

THE    REALM    OF    ORGANISMS    CONTRASTED    WITH    THE 

DOMAIN    OF    THE    INORGANIC 49 

§L  Things  and  Living  Creatures,  49 — §2.  The  Charac- 
teristic Features  of  the  Realm  of  Organisms,  50 — §  3.  A 
Multitude  of  Individualities,  yet  a  Sjstema  Naturse,  61 — 
§  4.  Abundance  and  Insurgence  of  Life,  53 — §  5.  Struggle 
and  Sifting,  56 — §  G.  A  System  of  Inter-related  Lives,  58 — 
S  7.  The  E^revalence  of  Adaptations,  59 — §  8.  The  Pervasive- 
ness of  Beauty,  62— §  9.  The  Other  Side  of  the  Picture,  63— 
§  10.  Resemblances  between  the  Realm  of  Organisms  and 
the  Domain  of  the  Inorganic,  63 — §  11.  Contrasts  between 
the  Realm  of  Organisms  and  the  Domain  of  the  Inorganic, 
71 — §  12.  The  Suitability  of  the  Inorganic  to  be  the  Basis 
and   Environment  of  the  Organic,  73. 

LECTURE  III. 

THE  CRITERIA   OF   LIVINGNESS 79 

§  1.  Living  and  Not-living,  79 — §2.  The  Essential  Charac- 
teristics of  Living  Organisms,  80 — §  3.  Persistence  of  a  Com- 
plex Specific  Metabolism  and  of  a  Corresponding  Specific 
Organisation,  81 — §  4.  The  Capacity  of  Growth,  Reproduc- 
tion, and  Development,  91 — §  5.  Effective  Behaviour,  Regis- 
tration of  Experience,  and  Variability,  97. 

ix 


X  CONTENTS 

LECTURE  IV. 

PAGE 

ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 107 

§  1.  Is  Organism  More  than  Mechanism?,  107 — §2.  Chemical 
and  Physical  Laws  Apply  to  Organisms,  110 — §3.  Some  Diffi- 
culties in  the  Application  of  Physical  and  Chemical  Formulse 
to  Organisms,  113 — §4.  Criticism  of  Mechanistic  Descrip- 
tions of  Everyday  Functions,  117 — §5.  Criticism  of  Mechan- 
istic Descriptions  of  Animal  Behaviour,  122 — §6.  Difficulty  of 
Applying  Mechanistic  Formulae  to  Development,  126 — §  7. 
Difficulty  of  Applying  Mechanistic  Formula)  to  Organic  Evo- 
lution,  131 — §  8.    Answers  to  Criticisms,   135. 

LECTURE  V. 

THE   UNIQUENESS   OF   LIFE 143 

§  1.  The  Inadequacy  of  a  Mechanistic  Description  of  Organ- 
isms Is  a  Negative  Conclusion,  143 — §  2.  The  Problem:  Vital- 
ism or  Mechanism,  or  Neither?,  144 — §3.  Are  Organisms 
Unique  in  Virtue  of  their  Complexity?,  147 — §  4.  Have  Organ- 
isms a  Monopoly  of  Some  Peculiar  Energy  or  Energies?,  140 — 
§5.  Is  there  a  Non-perceptual  Vital  Agency  resident  in 
Organisms  and  Operative  in  distinctively  Vital  Activities?, 
153 — §6.  Descriptive  or  Methodological  Vitalism:  the  *  Bio- 
logical '  View,  150— §  7.  Speculative,  103—1  8.  Retrospect,  166 
— §  0.  Why  Cannot  the  Controversy  between  Mechanistic  and 
Vitalistic  Theory  be   Ended?,   169. 

LECTURE  VL 

ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 175 

§1.  What  Is  Behaviour?,  175 — §2  Diverse  Views  as  to 
Animal  Behaviour,  177 — §3.  Activities  of  Unicellular  Organ- 
isms, 179 — §  4.  Special  Case  of  Shell-building  among  Are- 
naceous Foraminifera,  185 — §  5.  Reflex  Actions,  186 — §  6. 
Tropisms,  192 — §  7.  Non-intelligent  Experimentation,  195 — 
§  8.  Instinctive  Behaviour,  198 — §  9.  Theories  of  Instinct, 
203— §  10.  Evidence  of  Intelligent  Behaviour,  211—$  11.  Sec- 
ondary Simplifications  of  Behaviour,  215 — §  12.  Rational  Con- 
duct, 217 — §  13.  General  Impressions  of  Animal  Behaviour, 
217. 

LECTURE  VIL 

THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 227 

§  1.  The  Approach  to  the  Problem.  227— §  2.  What  Must  Be 
Recognised  from  the  Biological  Side,  230— §  3.  What  Must 
Be  Recognised  from  the  Humanist  Side,  234 — §4.  Various 
Theories  of  the  Relation  of  '  Mind  '  and  '  Body  ',  236— §  5. 
Monistic  Speculation  along  the  Line  of  the  Double-Aspect 
or  Correlation  Theory,  251. 


CONTENTS  xi 

LECTURE  VIII. 

PAGE 

THE   FACT   OF   BEAUTY 259 

§  1.  A  Synoptic  View  of  Animate  Nature  Must  Include  the 
Fact  of  the  Pervasiveness  of  lieauty,  251) — §  2.  General  Char- 
acteristics of  the  Esthetic  Emotion,  260 — §  3.  Beauty  a 
General  Quality  of  Animate  Nature,  261  —  §4.  Theoretical 
Objections  to  the  Thesis,  261 — §  5.  Concrete  Objections,  265 — 
§  6.  Factors  in  Esthetic  Delight,  267— §  7.  Aspects  of 
Beauty  in  Animate  Nature,  271 — §  8.  Biological  Significance 
of  Beauty  to  the  Beautiful  Animals  themselves,  275 — §  \). 
Beauty  of  Animal  Artifice,  278— §  10.  Evolution  of  Tl^sthetic 
Emotion,  279 — §  11.  The  Significance  of  the  Pervasive  Beauty 
of  Animate  Nature,  282. 

LECTURE  IX. 

THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 289 

§1.  The  Tactics  of  Animate  Nature,  289- §  2  The  Twofold 
Business  of  Life,  291— §  3.  The  Struggle  for  Existence,  293— 
§  4.  Correction  of  Some  Misconceptions  of  the  Struggle  for 
Existence,  301— §5.  Tlie  Welfare  of  the  Species,  305— §  6. 
As  regards  Warfare,  308. 

LECTURE  S. 

ADAPTIVENESS    AND    PURPOSIVENESS 319 

§  1.  Animate  Nature  Abounds  in  Adaptations,  319 — §  2  Their 
Origin  neither  by  Design  nor  Mechanical,  325 — §  3.  Is 
There  'Purpose*  in  the  Inorganic  Domain?,  330 — §4. 
Purposefulncss  and  Purposiveness  in  Human  Behaviour,  331 — 
§  5.  Purposiveness  and  Purposefulncss  in  Animal  Behaviour, 
335 — §  6.  The  Purposelikeness  of  the  Ordinary  Functioning 
of  the  Body  is  Covered  by  the  Concept  of  Adaptation,  341 — 
§  7.    Provisional  Conclusion  and  Anticipation,  343. 


PAET  I. 

THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS 

AS  IT  IS. 


1 


LECTURE  I. 

THE  UNFATHOMED  UOTYEESE  AND  THE 

AIM  OF  SCIENCE. 


LECTURE  I. 

THE  UXFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  AND  THE 

AIM  OF  SCIENCE. 

§  1.  Man's  Early  Outlook  on  Nature.  §  2.  Growing  Recognition 
of  a  Scientific  Order.  §  3.  Aims  of  Science.  §  4.  Limit a^ 
tions  of  Natural  Knowledge.  §  5.  The  Function  of  Feeling  in 
our  View  of  Nature.  §  6.  Towards  a  Philosophical  Inter- 
pretation of  Nature.     §  7.    Science  and  Religion. 

§  1.    Mans  Early  Outlook  on  Nature. 

In  early  days  men  must  have  looked  somewhat  dis- 
tractedly and  uncomprehendingly  on  the  crowded  world 
without,  discerning  only  glimpses  of  order  amid  the  big 
booming  confusion.  There  is  a  ring  of  truth  in  the  fine 
description  .^schylus  gave,  that — "  first,  beholding  they 
beheld  in  vain,  and,  hearing,  heard  not,  but  like  shapes  in 
dreams,  mixed  all  things  wildly  down  the  tedious  time,  nor 
knew  to  build  a  house  against  the  sun  with  wicketed  sides, 
nor  any  wood- work  knew,  but  lived  like  silly  ants,  beneath 
the  ground,  in  hollow  caves  unsunned.  There  came  to  them 
no  steadfast  sign  of  winter,  nor  of  spring  flower-perfumed, 
nor  of  summer  full  of  fruit,  but  blindly  and  lawlessly  they 
did  all  things.'' 

Poincare  speaks  of  the  days  before  Man  learned  from  the 
stars  that  there  was  a  reign  of  law.  "  Isolated  amidst  a 
nature  where  everything  was  a  mystery  to  him,  terrified  at 
each  unexpected  manifestation  of  incomprehensible  forces, 
he  was  incapable  of  seeing  in  the  conduct  of  the  universe 
anything    but    caprice"   (1913,    p.    290).     So    large    were 

8 


4  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

the  seas  of  ignorance,  so  many  the  straits,  that  there  was 
as  yet  no  discernment  of  the  coherent  continents  of 
knowledge. 

Gradually,  however,  Man  came  to  himself  and  grew  in 
knowledge  of  the  empirical  order  of  I^ature.  It  was  a  great 
step  when  he  first  recognised  the  year  with  its  object-lesson 
of  recurrent  sequences — a  basis  from  which  to  observe  other 
practically  important  uniformities.  What  a  momentous  be- 
ginning the  Chaldseans  made  who  first  discerned  that  the 
multitude  of  the  stars  was  "  not  a  confused  crowd  wander- 
ing at  random,  but  rather  a  disciplined  army  '^ !  It  was  a 
working  knowledge  of  natural  processes,  rather  than  an 
understanding  of  them,  that  was  in  the  first  instance  built 
up,  and  it  was  correlated,  on  the  one  hand,  with  a  still  very 
imperfect  mastery  of  the  forces  of  Nature,  and,  on  the  other, 
with  a  belief  in  magic  and  in  the  possession  of  things  by 
spirits — imaginative  constructions  which  are  perhaps  analo- 
gous, as  Prof.  W.  E.  Ritter  suggests,  to  the  materialism  and 
animism  of  later  days. 

§  2.    Growing  Recognition  of  a  Scientific  Order. 

The  empirical  order  was  gradually  replaced  by  a  scientific 
order.  Some  practical  need  pressed  a  question  home;  im- 
agination found  a  clue;  measurement  or  some  other  form 
of  accurate  registration  furnished  reliable  data ;  a  regularity 
of  sequence  was  discovered  and  tested ;  a  law  was  formulated. 
Especially  after  the  foundation-laying  work  of  Galileo,  did 
the  scientific  reconstruction  of  the  physical  world  proceed 
apace.  There  was  a  period  of  the  discovery  of  the  '  Forces 
of  Nature '  and  of  the  ^  Laws  of  Nature ',  and  a  growing 
clearness.  "  God  said.  Let  Newton  be,  and  there  was 
light.'^ 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  5 

The  scientific  order  has  grown  like  an  organism.  Its 
methods  have  become  more  penetrating;  improvements  in 
instruments  (such  as  telescope  and  microscope,  spectroscope 
and  radioscope)  have  almost  meant  new  senses.  Its  stand- 
ard of  accuracy  has  been  raised,  many  residual  phenomena 
and  minute  discrepancies,  previously  neglected,  have  pointed 
the  way  to  discoveries,  as  in  the  case  of  Argon.  Its  con- 
cepts have  been  periodically  thrown  into  the  crucible  of 
criticism,  and  come  out  clearer,  or  not  at  all.  Thus  force, 
instead  of  being  a  power  inherent  in  substances,  became 
a  measure  of  the  rate  of  transference  of  energy,  and  heat 
became  a  mode  of  motion.  Large  bodies  of  facts  which 
used  to  be  regarded  as  beyond  science,  the  weather  and 
dreams  for  instance,  have  become  amenable  to  scientific  treat- 
ment. 

The  progress  of  science  wrought  inevitable  changes  in 
man's  outlook.  The  work  of  Copernicus  and  Galileo  shat- 
tered the  geocentric  theory,  which  made  our  Earth  the  centre 
of  the  solar  system,  and  subsequent  discoveries  showed  what 
a  small  corner  of  the  universe  our  whole  system  occupies. 
'Not  that  we  estimate  man's  kingdom  in  furlongs!  The 
great  discoverers  in  astronomy,  physics,  and  chemistry  re- 
vealed more  and  more  clearly  the  reign  of  law  in  the  in- 
organic world.  No  room  was  left  for  guidance  or  control 
other  than  there  is  in  the  nature  of  things  themselves;  no 
room  was  left  for  interventions  or  influxes;  and  the  idea 
that  physical  events  were  immediately  ordered  "  by  the  hand 
of  God  "  in  relation  to  human  interests  disappeared  like  a 
dream.  There  came  indeed  to  be  an  exaggeration  of  the 
omnipotence  of  the  Laws  of  ^N'ature — man's  formulations 
of  observed  uniformities  of  sequence,  which,  although  they 
evidently  approximate  to  reality,  cannot  be  invested  with 


6  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

absolutism.  Yet  the  old  order  changed,  giving  place  to  a 
new — the  whole  inorganic  world  was  more  and  more  com- 
pletely and  consistently  analysed  in  terms  of  dynamics. 

In  regard  to  the  realm  of  organisms  also  the  outlook 
changed.  The  filiations  of  living  creatures  were  discovered 
and  the  special  creationists  retreated  before  the  evolutionists. 
It  was  shown  that  the  living  body  is  the  theatre  of  many 
chemical  and  physical  operations  in  a  line  with  those  of  the 
inorganic  domain.  The  chains  of  physiological  events  that 
make  up  everyday  functions  and  behaviour  were  disclosed. 
Plants  and  animals  were  brought  under  the  reign  of  law. 
The  fitnesses  or  adaptations  which  seemed  to  speak  so  elo- 
quently of  a  direct  Designer  were  shown  to  be  the  outcome 
of  long-continued  processes  of  varying  and  sifting.  And 
when  Man's  zoological  place  in  Xature  was  recognised,  the 
anthropocentric  theory  saw  the  beginning  of  its  end.  Even 
for  those  who  continue  to  maintain,  rightly  we  think,  that 
organism  is  more  than  mechanism,  that  organic  evolution 
is  not  a  mechanical  process,  that  thinking,  feeling,  and 
willing  are  activities  that  count,  that  man  transcends  his 
ancestry,  and  that  it  is  not  only  legitimate  but  necessary 
to  regard  the  cosmic  process  in  the  light  of  its  outcome — 
the  whole  aspect  of  the  world  has  changed. 

But  experience  is  the  only  limit  to  the  application  of 
scientific  methods,  and  a  new  psychology  began  to  accom- 
pany the  new  physiolog}^,  rather  at  the  risk  of  its  own  life, 
to  be  sure,  because  of.  its  partner's  appetite.  The  outlook 
was  changed  by  the  disclosure  of  the  close  interdependence 
of  what  is  conveniently  called  ^  mind '  and  what  is  con- 
veniently called  '  body ',  by  increased  knowledge  of  the 
individual  development  and  racial  evolution  of  mental 
powers  or  modes  of  behaviour,  by  a  disclosure  of  a  certain 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  7 

amount  of  common  ground  between  man  and  beast,  by  an 
analysis  of  obligatory  modes  of  activity  which  we  call  re- 
flexes and  tropisms,  and  so  on.  Thus  science  has  extended 
its  claims. 

With  the  advance  of  natural  knowledge — at  times  very 
slowly,  and  again  by  leaps  and  bounds — has  come  an  in- 
creased control  of  Nature  which  is  as  rich  in  promise  as  in 
achievement.  We  have  recalled  the  picture  ^schylus  gave 
of  our  ancestors — living  in  caves,  fearful  of  wild  beasts, 
often  dying  of  hunger  or  of  poison,  without  wood-work  or 
metals,  without  fire,  without  foresight,  and  unable  to  think 
of  the  general  well-being.  What  a  contrast  between  that 
picture  and  our  life  to-day.  For  nowadays  the  serpent  that 
bites  Man's  heel  is  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  microscopic; 
year  by  year  Man  increases  his  mastery  over  the  physical 
forces;  he  coins  wealth  out  of  the  thin  air;  he  annihilates 
distance  with  his  shrewd  devices;  he  makes  the  ether  carry 
his  messages;  he  is  extending  his  rule  to  the  heavens;  and 
he  is  making  experiments  on  the  control  of  life  itself.  In 
the  so-called  purely  physical  domain,  at  least,  his  dreams 
have  more  than  come  true. 

After  a  long  period  during  which  science  consisted  of 
numerous  discrete  bodies  of  knowledge,  largely  related  to 
the  practical  control  of  Nature,  there  began  to  be  concentra- 
tion into  a  system,  a  sort  of  cosmology.  Science  entered 
upon  a  new  and  purely  theoretical  role  of  giving  man  a  com- 
posite picture  of  the  world  and  its  processes.  This  is  in- 
creasingly impressive,  the  more  we  realise  it — which  means 
hard  work.  After  a  long  ascent  we  get  a  new  view,  aestheti- 
cally magnificent,  intellectually  a  revelation  of  connected- 
ness. But,  fine  as  it  is,  the  scientific  picture  has  satis- 
fied very  few  thinkers  of  distinction,  the  chief  reason  being 


8  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

that  the  contributions  which  each  science  makes  are  always 
partial  views,  reached  by  processes  of  abstraction,  by  fo- 
cussing attention  on  certain  aspects  of  things.  Pooling  the 
results  of  the  several  sciences  does  not  of  itself  result  even 
in  a  scientific  system,  for  that  requires  correlation.  Still 
less  does  it  result  in  a  philosophic  system.  This  will  be 
clearer  if  the   aims  of  science  are  discriminated. 

§  3.    Aims  of  Science. 

Science  expresses  a  quite  specific  endeavour  to  get  phenom- 
ena under  intellectual  control,  so  that  we  can  think  of  them 
economically  and  clearly  in  relation  to  the  rest  of  our 
science,  and  so  that  we  can  use  them  as  a  basis  for  secure 
prediction  and  effective  action.  Knowledge  is  foresight, 
and  foresight  is  power.  The  direct  motives  of  science  are, 
in  the  main,  intellectual  curiosity,  a  self-preservative  dis- 
like of  obscurities,  a  desire  for  unity  and  continuity  in 
outlook.  Often,  in  particular  cases,  the  immediate  motive 
may  have  been  utilitarian — a  desire  for  mastery;  but  the 
great  majority  of  important  practical  discoveries  have  be- 
hind them  a  long  labour  of  theoretical  research  pursued 
for  its  own  sake. 

That  the  chief  end  of  science  is  descriptive  formulation 
has  probably  been  clear  to  keen  analytic  minds  since  the 
time  of  Galileo,  especially  to  the  great  discoverers  in  astron- 
omy, mechanics,  and  dynamics.  But  as  a  definitely  stated 
conception,  corrective  of  misunderstandings,  the  view  of 
science  as  essentially  descriptive  began  to  make  itself  felt 
about  the  beginning  of  the  last  quarter  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  and  may  be  associated  with  the  names  of  Kirch- 
hoff  and  Mach.  It  was  in  1876  that  Kirchhoff  defined  the 
task  of  mechanics  as  that  of  "  describing  completely  and  in 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  9 

the  simplest  manner  the  motions  which  take  place  in  Na- 
ture '^  Widening  this  a  little,  we  may  say  that  the  aim 
of  science  is  to  describe  natural  phenomena  and  occurrences 
as  exactly  as  possible,  as  simply  as  possible,  as  completely 
as  possible,  as  consistently  as  possible,  and  always  in  terms 
w^hich  are  communicable  and  verifiable.  This  is  a  very  dif- 
ferent role  from  that  of  solving  the  riddles  of  the  universe, 
and  it  is  well  expressed  in  what  Newton  said  in  regard  to 
the  law  of  gravitation.  ''  So  far  I  have  accounted  for  the 
phenomena  presented  to  us  by  the  heavens  and  the  sea  by 
means  of  the  force  of  gravity,  but  I  have  as  yet  assigned 
no  cause  to  this  gravity.  ...  I  have  not  been  able  to 
deduce  from  phenomena  the  raison  d'etre  of  the  properties 
of  gravity  and  I  have  not  set  up  hypotheses  "  (Newton, 
PhilosopliicB  naturcdis  Principia  Mathematical     1687). 

"  We  must  confess,''  said  Prof.  J.  H.  Poynting  (1900, 
p.  616),  ^Hhat  physical  laws  have  greatly  fallen  off  in 
dignity.  No  long  time  ago  they  were  quite  commonly  de- 
scribed as  the  Fixed  Laws  of  Nature,  and  were  supposed 
sufficient  in  themselves  to  govern  the  universe.  Now  we 
can  only  assign  to  them  the  humble  rank  of  mere  descrip- 
tions, often  erroneous,  of  similarities  which  we  believe  we 
have  observed.  ...  A  law  of  nature  explains  nothing, 
it  has  no  governing  power,  it  is  but  a  descriptive  formula 
which  the  careless  have  sometimes  personified."  It  used  to 
be  said  that  "  the  laws  of  Nature  are  the  thoughts  of  God  " ; 
now  we  say  that  they  are  the  investigator's  formula}  sum- 
ming up  regularities  of  recurrence. 

This  view  of  the  function  of  science  must  be  accepted  as 
expressing  at  least  part  of  the  truth,  for  who  should  know 
better  what  they  are  aiming  at  than  the  great  discoverers 
themselves  ?    But  is  it  not  necessary  to  make  certain  reserva- 


10  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

tions  ?  (a)  First,  instead  of  explaining  an  event  by  show- 
ing that  it  obeys  a  law  of  Nature,  the  modern  investigator  is 
content  to  say  that  it  is  fully  described  or  represented  in 
such  and  such  a  formula,  that  it  can  be  included  in  this 
or  that  typical  case.  As  Aristotle  said,  from  a  great  number 
of  experiences  one  general  conception  is  formed  which  will 
embrace  all  similar  cases.  There  is  unification  under  a 
common  law.  As  Clifford  says,  "  A  true  explanation  refers 
the  previously  unknown  to  the  known."  It  assimilates  the 
less  known  to  the  better  known.  But  we  must  not  overlook 
the  preliminary  analysis  and  reduction  to  a  common  denom- 
inator which  made  it  possible  to  bring  an  apparent  incom- 
mensurable into  a  series,  and  to  recognise  unity  and 
continuity  of  process.  Equations  may  not  be  explanations, 
but  the  analytic  descriptions  given  by  exact  science  are  very 
different  from  the  pictorial  descriptions  of  everyday  life. 
There  is  sometimes  a  mock  modesty  in  the  declaration  of  the 
scientific  inquirer  that  he  is  describing  not  explaining;  and 
there  is  deceptiveness  in  his  formulation,  if  he  reaches  his 
simplification  by  violence,  by  a  jugglery  which  coerces  to  a 
common  denominator  such  fractions  of  reality  as  motion  and 
emotion  which  are  radically  incommensurable. 

(h)  Second,  there  are  laws  of  Nature  such  as  Gravita- 
tion, which  sum  up  uniformities  in  terms  largely  independ- 
ent of  hypothetical  constructions.  These  must  be  distin- 
guished from  summations  in  terms  of  what  Rankine  called 
"  conceptions  of  a  conjectural  order  "  which  image  the  inti- 
mate nature  of  things  and  processes.  Ohm's  laws  remain, 
whatever  be  our  view  of  electrical  energy.  Mendel's  law 
remains,  whatever  be  our  views  as  to  what  are  called  ^  fac- 
tors '  in  inheritance.  As  long  as  we  consider  moving  bodies 
in  bulk  within  sensible  distances  of  the  earth,  the  law  of 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  11 

gravitation  holds  absolutely,   and  states  without  hypothesis 
how  the  motions  of  the  bodies  and  the  earth  are  mutually 
affected.     But  if  we  proceed,  with  Le  Sage  or  some  other, 
to  a  theory  of  gravitation,  we  enter  a  realm  of  imaginative 
construction.     We  work  with  concepts  which  are,  no  doubt, 
ingenious,  well-thought-out,  consistent,  and  useful ;  but  how 
far  they  correspond  to,   or  are  representative  of  objective 
entities  is  a  question  to  be  carefully  considered.     Sometimes 
the  concepts  that  are  effectively  worked  with  are  obviously 
mere  symbols;  thus  no  one  supposes  that  carbon  atoms  are 
really  like  their  quite  useful  quadrumanous  diagrammatic 
representations  in  books  on  chemistry.     The  difficulty  is  in 
regard  to  subtler  symbols  or  concepts,  which  work  so  well 
that  we  inevitably  come  to  think  of  them  as  objective  actual- 
ities.    And  it  may  be  that  what  was  at  first  an  imaginative 
thought-economising  symbol,  part  of  a  system  of  intellectual 
shorthand,  will  be  actually  verified  in  Nature.     Thus  many 
physicists  now  speak   confidently   and   convincingly   of  the 
^  reality '  of  the  atom.     When  it  is  legitimate  to  speak  of 
a  scientific  symbol  as  real  is  a  matter  for  the  experts  only, 
as  is  plain  enough  from  their  disagreement.     Thus  the  ether 
was  declared  by  Lord  Kelvin  to  be  the  greatest  certainty  in 
physics,  while  we  find  the  upholders  of  the  Principle  of 
Relativity  declaring  that  the  Victorian  ether  and   the  Vic- 
torian matter  must  both  go.     Similarly  in  biological  prob- 
lems, such  as  those  centred  in  inheritance,  there  is  diver- 
gence   of    opinion    as    to    the    objectivity    of    ^  biophores  \ 
'  determinants  \   ^  factors  ',   and   '  genes  \   though   these   are 
very  useful  in  formulating  conclusions  and  prompting  fur- 
ther questions. 

(c)   Third,  it  has  to  be  remembered  that  the  descriptive 
formula)  are  more  than  summations  of  the  routine  of  in- 


12  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

dividual  experience  (a  view  which  would  lead  us  near  the 
impasse  of  solipsism),  for  they  are  verifiable  by  all  normally 
constituted  minds,  and  that  they  must  have  a  close  corre- 
spondence with  the  actualities  of  Nature  since  the  predictions 
based  on  them  are  fulfilled.  We  continually  risk  our  lives 
on  the  closeness  of  this  correspondence.  That  we  are  not 
betrayed  proves,  not  that  the  concepts  or  intellectual  count- 
ers used  in  representation  are  like  the  real  things,  or  are 
even  the  only  usable  concepts,  but  that  the  uniformities 
which  the  concepts  are  used  to  detect  and  to  represent  are 
real. 

Speaking  of  the  electrical  theory  of  matter,  the  late  Prof. 
J.  H.  Poynting  said :  "  The  chief  value  of  such  hypothesis 
lies,  not  in  its  objective  truth,  but  in  its  success  in  account- 
ing for,  in  co-ordinating,  what  we  actually  observe,  and  in 
predicting  results  "which  are  afterwards  verified.  It  is  to 
be  regarded  as  a  ^  working  model '  which  gives  the  same 
results  as  the  actual  atom,  though,  it  may  be,  by  quite 
different  machinery."  While  adhering  to  this  view,  let 
us,  however,  safeguard  it  by  recognising  that  the  validity 
of  the  working  model  depends  on  its  verifiability,  and  on 
its  correspondence  with  actualities.  As  Hertz  said,  the 
quality  of  scientific  symbols  is  such  that  their  intellectually 
necessary  consequences  correspond  to  occurrences.  For 
certain  purposes  the  view  that  the  sun  goes  round  the  earth 
is  just  as  effective  as  the  conclusion  that  the  earth  goes 
round  the  sun.  We  can  rise  at  dawn  with  equal  punctuality 
on  either  hypothesis.  But  beyond  a  short  radius  the  former 
"will  lead  us  hopelessly  wrong,  while  the  latter  never  will. 

(d)  Fourthly,  it  is  interesting  to  notice  that  Bacon  did 
not  include  historia  naturalis  in  his  encyclopaedia  of  the 
sciences,   probably   because   it  remained   too   concretely   de- 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  13 

script! ve  and  did  not  admit  of  formulation  in  terms  of  ab- 
stract concepts,  as  astronomy,  for  instance,  does.  Yet  there 
is  in  natural  history  a  kind  of  description  which  is  just 
as  essential  in  its  own  place  as  is  mechanical  or  dynamical 
description — namely,  historical  description.  We  would  not 
buy  a  horse  on  the  strength  of  a  description  in  terms  of  the 
dynamics  of  particles,  partly  because  we  could  not  go  far 
in  the  way  of  checking  its  accuracy,  but  mainly  because  of 
our  shrewd  conviction  that  the  essential  thing  is  to  know 
what  we  can  about  the  horse's  history.  Similarly,  our 
science  of  the  horse  must  include  not  only  its  whole  architec- 
ture from  skull  to  blood  crystals,  not  only  the  consensus  of 
its  active  parts  from  brain  to  phagocytes,  but  also  its  char- 
acter and  its  individual  and  racial  becoming.  Even  within 
the  sciences  of  the  inorganic,  when  dealing,  for  instance, 
with  the  geological  interpretation  of  scenery  or  the  establish- 
ment of  the  solar  system,  the  description  must  be  genetic 
or  historical.  It  is  an  interesting  point  that,  just  about  the 
time  when  Physics  began  to  proclaim  emphatically  that  its 
office  was  to  describe  not  to  explain,  Natural  History  in 
Darwin's  hands  passed  emphatically  from  description  to 
historical  explanation. 

§  4.    Limitations  of  Natural  Knowledge. 

Science  makes  so  many  permanent  discoveries,  which  are 
never  contradicted  though  often  transcended,  that  she  ac- 
quires an  assured  confidence  which  has  only  been  equalled 
by  that  of  Theology.  For  this  very  reason  it  is  useful  that 
she  should  be  ever  examining  herself.  One  of  the  famous 
balance-sheets  was  that  made  by  Du  Bois-Rcymond  in  his 
lectures  on  the  Seven  Riddles  of  the  Universe  and  on  the 
Limits    of    Natural    Knowledge.      He    confessed    that    the 


14.  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

science  of  his  day  could  not  offer  any  explanation  of  the 
origin  of  life,  the  apparent  purposiveness  of  Nature,  and  the 
origin  of  language;  but  he  did  not  hold  that  these  enigmas 
were  insoluble.  On  the  other  hand,  as  to  the  essence  of 
matter  and  energy,  the  origin  of  motion,  the  fact  of  sensa- 
tion, and  the  freedom  of  the  will,  his  pronouncement  was 
not  only  Ignoramus,  but  Ignorabimus.  Similarly  to-day, 
without  ceasing  for  a  moment  to  admire  the  splendour  of 
scientific  achievement,  and  the  promise  that  there  is  of  fur- 
ther conquests,  we  have  to  say  many  times  Ignoramus,  and 
perhaps  it  is  no  bad  sign  of  the  wliolesomeness  of  modem 
science  that  it  is  acutely  aware  of  its  limitations — ^both  in- 
trinsic and  extrinsic. 

(a)  To  begin  with,  there  is  less  forgetfulness  of  the 
fact  that  We  know  Nature  only  as  it  is  mirrored  in  our 
minds.  When  we  think  of  what  science  would  have  been  if 
the  stars  had  been  always  hidden  in  cloud,  we  realise  that 
much  has  depended  on  the  stimuli  of  the  outer  world;  but 
the  discernment  of  the  cosmos  has  been  within  us,  growing 
with  our  strength  and  hindered  by  our  limitations.  It  is  a 
familiar  experience,  for  instance,  that  our  immediate  per- 
ceptual power  increases  at  compound  interest,  the  eye  per- 
ceiving more  and  more  as  the  mind  is  educated.  Our 
concepts  stimulate  our  perceptual  powers  to  a  higher  degree 
of  intensity. 

(h)  A  large  part  of  even  the  near  at  hand  world  is 
invisible,  like  the  air.  Much  may  escape  all  our  senses, 
as  the  ultra-violet  rays,  which  the  ants  feel,  escape  our 
eyes.  It  is  said  that  there  are  living  creatures,  the  Chlamy- 
dozoa,  which  lie  just  on  the  border-line  of  microscopic 
visibility;  and  beyond  these  minima  sensihilia  there  may  be 
organisms  still  smaller.     An  alien  observer  of  the  earth  in 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  15 

early  days  might  have  complained  of  its  azoic  dullness,  u-hile 
the  primitive  Biococci  were  proliferating  in  hillions  be- 
neath his  feet.  So  to-day  there  may  be  forms  of  life  and 
modes  of  energy  around  us  which  we  do  not  know. 

In  any  case,  how  different  our  world  is  from  that  of 
the  man  born  blind;  and  what,  asks  John  Burroughs,  if 
we  could  go  on  opening  one  eye  after  another  to  the  number 
of  a  dozen  or  so,  and  were  able,  he  should  have  added,  to 
correlate  our  impressions  ?  What  if  we  had  three  or  more 
extra  senses  ?  How  different  our  view  of  Animate  Nature 
would  have  been  if  the  microscope  and  the  spectroscope,  to 
name  only  two  of  our  extraneous  sense-organs,  had  not  been 
invented !  Apart  from  such  imaginings  we  have  many  re- 
markable facts  in  regard  to  the  cultivation  of  the  senses  that 
we  have.  The  blind  man  knows  every  footstep  in  the  vil- 
lage. In  the  opinion  of  some  experts,  there  are  consider- 
able tracts  of  fallow  ground  in  our  brains,  which  may  one 
day  be  tilled.  How  slow  should  Man  be  in  supposing  that 
he  has  exhausted  a  subject!  There  are  few  who  have  even 
a  calculus  which  will  show  them  how  far  they  have  suc- 
ceeded in  discerning  the  more  or  less  obvious  inter-relations 
or  ^  aspects  '  of  the  object  of  their  study.  Warned  by  such 
errors  as  that  of  Comte,  who  declared  that  Man  could  never 
know  anything  as  to  the  chemical  composition  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  we  have  learned  to  be  cautious  in  not  put- 
ting in  ^  full  stops  \  There  is  a  large  library  now  on  the 
animals  of  the  Deep  Sea,  yet  it  is  not  very  long  since  a 
great  naturalist  declared  that  of  the  possible  tenants  of  the 
Oceanic  Abysses  we  could  not  hope  to  know  anything  un- 
less some  of  them — if  there  were  any — happened  to  tumble 
upwards  to  the  superficial  zones  of  reduced  pressure. 
Science  has  reason  to  beware  of  saying  ^'  Non  possumus  ''. 


16  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

Yet,  as  a  warning  against  finality  in  another  direction,  we 
must  admit  the  vagueness  that  is  apt  to  invest  our  knowledge 
of  the  past.  In  the  perfectly  exact  sciences,  we  can  some- 
times work  backwards  with  remarkable  certainty  to  comets, 
eclipses,  and  the  like;  but  in  Biology  how  watchful  we  have 
to  be  lest  we  get  entangled  in  the  vicious  circle  of  inventing 
a  past  from  its  continued  life  in  the  present,  and  then  in- 
terpreting the  present  in  terms  of  our  invention. 

(c)  A  reasonable  humility  of  mind  is  also  engendered 
by  recognising  how  limited,  after  all,  is  our  range  of  exact 
data.  The  late  Professor  Rowland,  a  distinguished  physi- 
cist, writes  (1899,  p.  408)  :  ''  In  time  we  are  limited  by  a 
few  hundred  or  possibly  thousand  years.  ...  In  space  we 
have  exact  knowledge  limited  to  portions  of  our  earth's  sur- 
face and  a  mile  or  so  below  the  surface,  together  with  what 
little  we  can  learn  from  looking  through  powerful  telescopes 
into  the  space  beyond.  In  temperature  our  knowledge  ex- 
tends from  near  the  absolute  zero  to  that  of  the  sun,  but 
exact  knowledge  is  far  more  limited.  In  pressures  we  go 
from  the  Crookes  vacuum,  still  containing  myriads  of  flying 
atoms,  to  pressures  limited  by  the  strength  of  steel,  but  still 
very  minute  compared  with  the  pressures  at  the  centre  of 
the  earth  and  sun,  where  the  hardest  steel  would  flow  like 
the  most  limpid  water.  In  velocities  we  are  limited  to  a  few 
miles  per  second.  In  forces  to  possibly  one  hundred  tons  to 
the  square  inch.  In  mechanical  rotations  to  a  few  hun- 
dred times  a  second."  Perhaps  some  of  these  limits  have 
been  extended  since  Professor  Rowland  gave  the  address 
from  which  we  have  quoted,  but  that  would  not  affect  our 
point, — ^the  importance  of  bearing  in  mind  the  limits  of 
exact  knowledge. 

(d)  Another  limitation  is  involved  in  the  very  nature 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  17 

of  scientific  procedure,  which  makes  headway  by  abstraction. 
Divide  et  impera  is  the  scientific  rule.  The  scientific  de- 
scription of  Nature  is  made  up  of  many  partial  views  con- 
tributed by  the  several  sciences.  We  have  to  confine  our 
attention  at  a  given  time  to  certain  aspects  of  a  thing  or 
process.  We  treat  of  the  mass  of  a  body  as  if  we  had  the 
body  under  the  influence  of  gravitation  only,  though  we 
know  that  we  cannot  secure  the  entire  absence  of  electrical, 
magnetic,  and  other  forces.  Science  works  with  perfect 
levers,  with  pure  masses,  *  ideal  systems '  in  general — 
which  we  do  not  meet  in  everyday  life. 

In  certain  cases  the  abstracting  is  obvious  and  not  danger- 
ous; in  other  cases  it  escapes  attention  and  leads  to  fallacy. 
We  know  that  biologically  we  cannot  abstract  the  trout  from 
the  stream ;  even  for  the  purposes  of  analytical  anatomy  we 
must  remember  the  environment,  still  more  when  dynamical 
relations  are  considered.  This  is  obvious,  but  is  it  so  ob- 
vious that  a  theory  of  animal  behaviour  which  reduces  all 
to  '  forced  movements '  or  tropisms  is  the  outcome  of  "  a 
process  of  abstraction  which  leaves  out  the  characteristic 
features  of  the  concrete  fact  to  be  explained  ",  the  plasticity, 
the  endeavour,  the  awareness  of  the  organism  ? 

(e)  When  we  take  the  long  and  wide  philosophical  view 
of  a  subject,  trying  to  see  the  phenomena  or  the  process  as 
a  whole,  the  inevitable  limitations  of  science  must  be  borne 
in  mind.  If  all  Animate  Nature  is  the  outcome  of  a  few 
Protists,  we  must  see  these  in  the  light  of  the  evolution  as 
a  whole.  ''  The  true  nature  of  the  antecedents,  that  is  to 
say,  of  the  apparent  cause,  is  revealed  only  in  the  effects  " 
(Pringle-Pattison,  1917,  p.  332)  ;  or  should  one  not  say  the 
full  nature?  If  we  believe  that  TyndalFs  "  matter  "  (Brit- 
ish Association  Address,  Belfast,   1874),  with  its  famous 


18  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

"  promise  and  potency  of  all  terrestrial  life ",  is  exhaust- 
ively described  in  terms  of  the  dynamics  of  particles,  then 
we  cannot  by  any  ingenuity  evolve  the  conscious  out  of  it; 
if  on  general  grounds  we  feel  bound  to  regard  conscious  life 
as  evolved  from  Tyndall's  "  matter  ",  then  the  reality  of  that 
"  matter  "  could  not  be  exhaustively  described  in  terms  of  the 
dynamics  of  particles. 

"  All  explanation  of  the  higher  by  the  lower  is  philosoph- 
ically a  hysteron-proteron.  The  antecedents  assigned  are 
not  the  causes  of  the  consequents,  for  by  antecedents  the 
naturalistic  theories  mean  the  antecedents  in  abstraction 
from  their  consequents — the  antecedents  taken  as  they  ap- 
pear in  themselves,  or  as  we  might  suppose  them  to  be  if 
no  such  consequents  had  ever  issued  from  them.  So  con- 
ceived, however,  the  antecedents  (matter  and  energy,  for  ex- 
ample) have  no  real  existence — they  are  mere  entia  rationis, 
abstract  aspects  of  the  concrete  fact  which  we  call  the 
universe  '^  (Pringle-Pattison,  Mans  Place  in  the  Cosmos, 
pp.  11-12). 

(/)  The  aim  of  science  is  not  so  much  ^^  to  give  an  ac- 
count of  the  whole  matter  ",  as  used  to  be  said,  but  rather  to 
work  out,  patiently  and  piecemeal,  a  number  of  descriptions 
and  formulations  of  diverse  aspects,  each  for  a  certain  pur- 
pose, by  certain  methods,  in  certain  symbols.  The  chemist's 
account  of  a  peacock's  tail  is  an  abstraction,  and  so  is  the 
physicist's,  the  biologist's,  and  the  psychologist's.  But  even 
when  all  these  results,  reached  by  scientific  abstraction,  are 
pooled,  we  have  not  "  an  account  of  the  whole  matter  "— - 
of  "  the  positive  full-orbed  reality  ".  That  correlation  often 
has  to  wait  for  genius.  Moreover,  the  scientific  synthesis,  if 
it  be  achieved,  requires  to  be  assimilated  with  what  the 
artist,  the  poet,  and  the  genuine  lover  of  birds  may  be  able 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  19 

to  tell  us  concerning  the  peacock's  tail.  Huxley's  declara- 
tion that  the  advance  of  science  is  synonymous  with  de- 
scription in  materialistic  symbols,  assumed  too  readily  that 
formulations  which  give  Man  a  considerable  power  of  predic- 
tion and  a  considerable  degree  of  practical  control  are  there- 
fore theoretically  exhaustive. 

(g)  But  let  us  consider  further  limitations.  We  de- 
scribe what  goes  on  around  us  or  within  us  in  the  simplest 
possible  terms,  but  the  fundamental  concepts  we  use  are 
notably  in  process  of  development.  As  Kirchhoff  said,  ''  It 
is  thinkable  that  a  description  which  to-day  is  the  simplest 
that  can  be  given  may  in  the  further  development  of  science 
be  replaced  by  one  still  more  simple."  It  is  also  thinkable, 
we  may  add,  that  some  of  our  present-day  formulations  will 
turn  out  to  be  too  simple,  for  abstraction  often  leads  to  fal- 
lacy. This  at  least  is  certain,  that  when  we  describe  oc- 
currences in  terms  of  matter  and  energ}^,  life  and  mind,  or 
any  similar  grand  concepts,  we  are  working  with  what  can- 
not be  called  self-explanatory.  Every  one  of  them  is  big 
with  mystery,  though  some  are  in  process  of  simplification. 
Much  so-called  '  explanation  '  is  reducing  unusual  unintel- 
ligibility  to  order  rather  than  to  radical  understanding. 
No  achievement  in  science  has  been  more  satisfactory  than 
the  Law  of  Gravitation,  but  can  any  one  tell  what  actually 
happens  in  the  unseen  universe  when  the  apple  falls  in  the 
orchard?  In  language  which  is  a  survival  we  still  speak  of 
the  force  of  gravity,  the  force  of  attraction,  and  so  on,  but 
we  know  that  forces  as  causes  do  not  exist.  The  earth  does 
not  pull  the  stone,  the  stone  gravitates  to  the  earth.  Some 
have  proposed  to  speak  of  bodies  ^  tractating '  and  ^  pollat- 
ing '  instead  of  saying  that  they  attract  or  repel  one  another. 
But,  as  Professor  Soddy  says,  "  Why  two  bodies  tractate  or 


20  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

pellate  is  not  known  in  a  single  instance,  least  of  all  per- 
haps in  the  oldest  recognised  case,  gravitation  ''  (Matter 
and  Energy,  pp.  111-12). 

We  know  of  over  eighty  elements  and  much  about  many 
of  them,  but  do  we  know  what  being  an  element,  like  Mer- 
cury or  Antimony,  really  means,  or  the  import  of  their 
periodic  classification  ?  Great  libraries  are  filled  with  our 
descriptions  of  the  stinicture  and  activities  of  plants  and 
animals,  but  do  we  know  what  livingness  essentially  is? 
We  cannot  define  it  at  present  in  terms  of  anything  else,  we 
take  it  as  '  given  \  We  cannot  tell  wherein  consists  the 
essential  difference  between  the  flight  of  a  bird  and  the 
movement  of  a  comet.  How  much,  relatively  speaking,  is 
known  of  '  mind  '  and  '  body  \  how  little  is  known  in  regard 
to  the  relation  between  them,  if  there  is  a  relation ! 

Qi)  We  hear  much  of  the  achievements  of  science  in 
tracing  things  back  to  their  beginnings.  That  is  the  histor- 
ical or  genetic  method,  and  it  yields  very  interesting  results. 
The  present  becomes  more  intelligible  in  the  light  of  the 
past.  But,  when  we  get  far  back,  how  mysterious  the  be- 
ginnings become.  How  mysterious  still,  to  tell  the  truth, 
are  many  of  the  big  steps  between  the  beginning  and  the 
end !  In  the  inorganic  sphere  one  collocation  passes  into 
another,  usually  without  jolts.  The  course  runs  smoothly. 
But  when  we  pass  to  organic  evolution  or  even  to  individual 
development,  we  are  almost  driven  back  to  a  belief  in  magic ! 
Who  can  tell  even  in  the  sketchiest  fashion  how  a  Silver 
Wyandotte  was  evolved  from  an  Indian  Jungle  Fowl,  or 
how  stage  gives  rise  to  stage  as  the  chick  develops  in  three 
weeks  from  a  minute  transparent  spot  on  the  top  of  the  yolk 
of  an  egg"^. 

Matter   has   seemed   to   many   easy-going   minds    a   firm 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  21 

basis  to  start  from,  but  what  is  matter,  and  what  has  been 
its  history?  Must  there  not  have  been  a  differentiation  of 
various  ^  forms  of  matter,  may  there  not  have  been  a  pre- 
material  state  of  things,  do  we  ever  get  to  beginnings  ?  This 
necessary  limitation  is  well  stated  by  Dr.  Arthur  Shipley : — 
'^  'No  body  of  scientific  doctrine  succeeds  in  describing  in 
terms  of  laws  of  succession  more  than  some  limited  set  of 
stages  of  a  natural  process ;  the  whole  process — if,  indeed, 
it  can  be  regarded  as  a  whole — must  for  ever  be  beyond 
the  reach  of  scientific  grasp.  The  earliest  stage  to  which 
science  has  succeeded  in  tracing  back  any  part  of  a  sequence 
of  phenomena  itself  constitutes  a  new  problem  for  science, 
and  that  without  end.  There  is  always  an  earlier  stage  and  to 
an  earliest  we  can  never  attain.  The  questions  of  origins 
concern  the  theologian,  the  metaphysician,  perhaps  the 
poet''   (Schuster  and  Shipley,  1917,  p.  276). 

(i)  Another  limitation  has  to  do  with  causal  sequences. 
In  ordinary  scientific  discourse,  as  Bergson  points  out,  three 
different  meanings  of  the  term  '  cause '  are  common.  A 
cause  may  act  by  impelling  (one  billiard  ball  striking  an- 
other), or  by  releasing  (a  spark  exploding  the  gunpowder), 
or  by  unwinding  (the  relaxing  of  the  spring  turning  the 
cylinder  of  a  gramophone  and  having  the  melody  as  effect). 
Now  "  only  in  the  first  case,  really,  does  cause  explain 
effect;  in  the  others  the  effect  is  more  or  less  given  in  ad- 
vance, and  the  antecedent  invoked  is — in  different  degrees, 
of  course — its  occasion  rather  than  its  cause "  (Creative 
Evolution,  English  Trans.,  p.  77). 

In  the  domain  of  mechanics,  in  Gravitational  Astronomy, 
we  see  the  high-water  mark  of  scientific  description,  in  exact- 
ness and  approximate  completeness.  There,  with  a  clear  in- 
tellectual conscience,  we  can  proclaim,  "causa  a?quat  effec- 


22  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

turn '' ;  for  why,  the  resultant  is  just  another  form  of  the 
components.  In  the  great  majority  of  cases,  however,  where 
there  is  a  qualitative  change,  we  know  that  a  given  colloca- 
tion of  matter  and  energy  gives  rise  to  another,  and  does 
so  uniformly,  but  w^e  cannot  tell  why  the  resultant  must  be 
as  it  is  and  not  otherwise.  In  the  great  majority  of  cases  all 
that  science  can  say  is,  ^'  If  this,  then  that " ;  and  it  is  a 
very  useful  thing  to  be  able  to  say. 

Every  one  knows  that  oxygen  and  hydrogen  will  unite  vio- 
lently to  form  water,  but  all  that  we  can  say  is  that  it  is  their 
nature  to.  Perhaps  it  may  be  explained  as  due  to  ^'  the  in- 
terplay between  electricity  and  matter  ",  and  then  we  shall 
shift  the  pegs  of  our  claim  in  the  desert  of  ignorance. 

We  rub  our  eyes  and  say :  "  But  surely  it  is  the  very 
business  of  Science  to  show  how  things  happen,  to  explain 
occurrences."  So  in  a  sense  it  is,  but  as  Professor  Stout 
puts  it,  "  What  is  really  done  is  to  show  that  a  given  result, 
often  called  an  effect,  is  part  of  a  continuous  process  which 
includes  a  known  antecedent,  often  called  the  cause."  In- 
deed, "  the  current  scientific  conception  of  a  cause  "  is  the 
^'  totality  of  the  conditions  in  the  presence  of  which  an  event 
occurs  and  in  the  absence  of  any  member  of  which  it  does  not 
occur"  (Taylor,  1909,  p.  170). 

(;)  Finally  there  is  a  sense  in  which  science,  if  not 
asymptotic,  is  bound  for  a  long  time  to  remain  approximate. 
The  Universe  is  still  unfathomed. 

(1)  A  scientific  law  formulates  an  observed  routine  in 
the  order  of  nature,  but  sometimes  it  is  only  a  provisional 
^  fit '.  Residual  phenomena  emerge  which  lead  to  restate- 
ment. So  Kepler  improves  on  Copernicus,  and  Newton  on 
Kepler. 

(2)  Even   when   the   '  fit '    of   the   formulation   is   more 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  23 

than  approximate,  extension  or  intensification  of  inquiry 
may  show  that  it  does  not  apply  beyond  certain  limits.  Thus 
the  law  of  gravitation,  which  must  be  very  near  to  perfect 
accuracy  when  applied  to  planetary  distances,  may  not  hold 
either  for  very  minute  molecular  distances  or  for  immense 
stellar  distances. 

(3)  Even  generalisations  that  work  well  and  must  bear 
a  close  correspondence  to  reality,  since  they  afford  a  basis 
for  effective  prophecy,  may  require  some  modification,  in 
their  setting  at  least,  in  the  light  of  some  new  fact  or  idea, 
of  great  magnitude.  Thus  Prof.  Frederick  Soddy  writes: 
"  It  sounds  incredible,  but  nevertheless  it  is  true,  that 
science  up  to  the  close  of  the  nineteenth  century  had  no  sus- 
picion even  of  the  existence  of  the  original  sources  of  natural 
energy.  .  .  .  The  vista  which  has  been  opened  up  by 
these  new  discoveries  [of  the  radio-active  properties  of 
some  substances]  is  without  parallel  in  the  whole  his- 
tory of  science "  (Harper  s  Magazine,  December,  1909,  p. 
53). 

(4)  We  cannot  pass  over  the  caution  suggested  by  the 
Michelson-Morley  experiment,  which  showed  that  scientific 
observations  cannot  transcend  the  system  in  which  they  are 
immersed.  In  Prof.  Wildon  Carr's  words,  ^'  It  showed  us 
that  observers  within  a  system  of  reference,  in  uniform  move- 
ment of  translation  relatively  to  other  systems,  have  no 
absolute  standard  by  which  they  can  determine  their  move- 
ment. There  is  no  absolute  ether,  no  absolute  space,  and  no 
absolute  time,  by  reference  to  which  we  can  determine  our 
movements"  (1918,  p.  21).  And  Prof.  Max  Planck 
writes  of  this  new  idea  of  the  relativity  of  time:  ''With 
the  revolution  which  it  brings  about  in  our  conception  of 
the   physical    universe,    no   other   is   comparable,    in    range 


24  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

and  profundity,  except  that  due  to  the  introduction  of  the 
Copernican  Astronomy.'' 

(5)  Finally,  it  may  be  useful  to  remember  that,  accord- 
ing to  current  and  probably  well-warranted  scientific  belief, 
there  was  once  a  time  when  what  happened  upon  the  earth 
might  have  been  formulated  in  its  immediacy  with  apparent 
exhaustiveness  in  terms  of  the  dynamics  of  particles.  But 
that  cannot  be  said  now.  New  aspects  of  reality  have  in 
the  course  of  ages  '  welled  up '  and  required  new  sciences. 
We  know,  too,  as  we  say,  the  ends  of  processes  which  in 
azoic  days  had  only  begun.  And  yet  we  are  not  sure  that 
we  know  any  ends  (in  the  sense  of  goals),  for  the  process 
continues.  Science  seems  bound  to  be  not  only  approxi- 
mate but  asymptotic,  for  its  subject-matter  continues  to 
evolve. 

One  may  have  a  more  or  less  wholesome  dislike  of  per-, 
petual-motion  mongers  and  their  successors,  but  one  resents 
scientific  absolutism  which  will  consider  nothing  that  seems 
to  infringe  a  law.  For  these  laws,  beyond  those  of  mathemat- 
ics, are  not  more  than  summations  of  experience  in  a  certain 
limited  here  and  now.  The  Uniformity  of  Nature  which 
the  legalists  hold  over  us  as  a  sacrosanct  principle  is  a  big- 
assumption.  For  who  shall  define  its  tenure  in  a  world  of 
aeonic  flux? 

We  should  remember,  too,  how  thickly  beset  we  are  with 
unsolved  problems  of  a  less  ultimate  nature.  What,  for  in- 
stance, is  the  commonest  and  most  universal  vital  event? 
It  is  cell-division.  And  though  the  literature  about  it  would 
fill  a  large  library,  we  do  not  yet  know  the  conditions  of  its 
occurrence  or  the  forces  at  work  in  its  accomplishment! 
When  we  succeed  in  stating  a  problem  in  a  clear  way  it  is 
gratuitous  to  speak  of  it  as  insoluble,  but  of  the  number  of 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  25 

unsolved  problems  and  of  the  way  in  which  the  solution  of 
one  raises  another,  every  one  is  aware. 

For  the  reasons  we  have  indicated  in  this  discussion  and 
for  others,  there  are  many,  in  this  age  of  extraordinarily 
rapid  scientific  discovery,  who  stand  wondering  before  an 
unfathomed  universe.  We  have  made  many  charts,  but 
there  is  still  more  sea.  Perhaps  one  of  the  most  hopeful 
signs  at  once  of  the  progressiveness  of  science  and  of  its 
conformability  with  the  humanities  and  philosophies  is  in 
its  vivid  realisation  of  its  own  limitations. 

From  the  absence  of  a  scientific  answer  to  a  scientific 
question,  we  do  not  dream  of  arguing,  as  has  been  often 
argued,  that  some  other  kind  of  answer,  say  theological, 
must  be  true.  We  have  to  render  to  Caesar  the  things  that 
are  Caesar's ;  and  there  is  no  exchange  between  scientific  and 
transcendental  coinage.  But  what  we  may  usefully  recog- 
nise is  the  self-imposed  limitation  of  science,  that  it  seeks, 
for  certain  purposes  and  by  certain  methods,  to  describe 
occurrences  and  processes  in  the  simplest  possible,  universally 
verifiable  terms,  and  that  it  does  not  pretend  to  exhaust  their 
reality.  This  leads  us  to  recognise  the  validity  of  feeling  in 
an  interpretation  of  Nature. 

§  5.     The  Function  of  Feeling  in  our  View  of  Nature. 

The  world  without  has  played  a  great  part  in  the  educa- 
tion of  the  human  spirit.  Its  enigmas  have  quickened  Man's 
intelligence;  its  practical  problems  have  trained  his  will; 
Animate  ITature  in  particular  has  been  a  school  of  feeling; 
the  mother's  face  has  been  a  factor  in  the  evolution  of  per- 
sonality (see  Merz,  1916).  In  her  manifold  opportunities 
Nature  has  thus  helped  man  to  polish  the  mirror  of  his  mind, 
and  the  process  continues.     Nature  still  supplies  us  with 


26  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

abundance  of  brain-stretching  theoretical  puzzles  and  we 
eagerly  tackle  them;  there  are  more  worlds  to  conquer  and 
we  do  not  let  the  sword  sleep  in  our  hand ;  but  how  does 
it  stand  with  feeling?  Nature  is  beautiful,  gladdening, 
awesome,  mysterious,  wonderful,  as  ever,  but  do  we  feel  it 
as  our  forefathers  did  ? 

What  is  this  feeling  for  Nature?  It  may  be  a  simple 
restfulness,  such  as  Darwin  once  spoke  of  when  for  the 
moment  he  laid  aside  his  questionings;  it  may  be  a  keen 
aesthetic  joy;  it  may  be  the  thrill  of  a  starry  night;  it  may 
be  the  pleasure  of  seeing  trust  and  affection  in  a  dog's  eyes ; 
it  may  be  the  response  our  heart  makes  in  spring  when  we 
hear  the  wild  geese  passing  overhead  on  their  northward 
migration,  and  know  that  another  winter  is  over  and  gone ; 
it  may  be  that  deep  calls  to  deep,  and  we  have  a  vicarious 
share  in  life's  triumph  over  matter ;  it  has  often  expressed 
itself  in  reverent  worship ;  it  may  be  an  awed  elation  in 
finding  ourselves  part  of  so  sublime  a  process  as  cosmic 
evolution.  This  element  of  feeling  in  our  outlook  on  Nature 
is  a  satisfaction  in  itself,  but  our  plea  for  allowing  it  to 
operate  in  our  interpretation  of  Nature  is  that  we  get 
closer  to  some  things  through  feeling  than  we  do  through 
science.  Just  as  feeling  contributes  to  our  total  appreciation 
of  people,  so  of  Nature.  Through  feeling  we  discern  what 
science  cannot  get  into  focus.  Not  that  any  one  dreams  of 
mingling  feeling  with  science  or  of  attempting  to  eke  out 
science  with  feeling,  but  to  try  to  exclude  feeling  from  our 
total  view  of  Nature  is  to  try  to  close  one  of  the  right-of- 
way  paths  to  reality.  Goethe  went  the  length  of  saying: 
''  Sympathy  and  enjoyment  in  what  we  see  is  in  fact  the 
only  reality,  and,  from  such  reality,  reality  as  a  natural 
product  follows.    All  else  is  vanity." 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  27 

In  the  preface  to  his  Diversions  of  a  Naturalist  (1015, 
p.  vi),  Sir  Raj  Lankester,  who  has  so  greatly  enriched 
Zoology,  speaks  in  a  very  interesting  way  of  the  value  of 
science  in  giving  us  prevision  and  control,  but  goes  on  to 
say :  ''  Science  commends  itself  to  us  as  does  Honesty  and 
as  does  great  Art  and  all  fine  thought  and  deed — not  as  a 
policy  yielding  material  profits,  but  because  it  satisfies  man's 
soul."  This  is  very  different  from  the  old  moan  that  increase 
of  knowledge  is  increase  of  sorrow,  and  surely  more  whole- 
some, but  we  wonder  if  it  is  true.  Is  it  science  that  satisfies 
man's  soul,  or  is  it  the  attendant  feeling  and  imagining 
which  the  study  of  Nature  evokes  ? 

There  have  always  been  men  of  science,  tough-minded 
by  birth,  to  whom  an  enthusiasm  for  natural  knowledge  has 
been  in  itself  enough,  who  have  asked  for  no  satisfaction 
from  either  faith  or  feeling;  and  the  world  owes  much  to 
their  preoccupation.  But  this  has  not  been  true  on  the 
whole ;  the  unsatisfyingness  of  an  exclusively  scientific  view 
of  Nature  has  been  confessed  age  after  age. 

In  the  ages  of  the  empirical  order  Man  had  his  imaginative 
constructions  of  early  magic  and  of  early  animism.  These 
were  attempts  to  eke  out  very  imperfect  understanding  and 
very  imperfect  control  of  Nature,  but  they  were  also  sops 
to  feeling.  The  replacement  of  the  empirical  order  by  the 
scientific  order  was  great  gain.  It  meant  a  less  beclouded 
intellectual  sky  and  a  greatly  increased  mastery  of  natural 
resources.  But  with  the  gain  came  loss,  for  the  reconstruc- 
tions of  science  are  austere,  not  home-like  to  the  human  spirit. 
The  creations  of  early  days — the  attractive  elves  as  well 
as  the  repellent  gnomes — were  scattered  by  the  growing  light 
of  science,  save  a  few  which  found  refuge  and  here  and 
there  still  linger  in  the  caverns  of  Man's  mind.     There  is 


28  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

no  doubt  that  the  scientific  method  is  antipodal  to  feeling,  and 
that  scientific  methods  and  systems  are  almost  hostile.  So  we 
tend  to  get  further  away  from  ''  an  original  relation  to 
ISTature  ",  such  as  many  children  have,  such  as  Emerson  re- 
ferred to  when  he  said :  ^'  The  earlier  generations  saw  God 
face  to  face ;  we  through  their  eyes.  Why  should  not  we  also 
enjoy  an  original  relation  to  Nature  ?  " 

It  might  be  thought  that  the  more  science  grows  the  more 
feeling  should  deepen.  "  All  knowledge,"  Coleridge  said, 
'"'  begins  and  ends  with  wonder,  but  the  first  wonder  is  the 
child  of  ignorance,  while  the  second  wonder  is  the  parent 
of  adoration."  Truly  progressive  science  should  enrich  our 
feeling,  for  it  gives  to  our  vision  depth,  order,  connectedness, 
and  continuity,  and  makes  the  whole  world  more  translucent 
and  more  full  of  meaning.  But  we  have,  after  all,  to  admit 
that  the  light  of  science  is  as  cold  as  it  is  clear.  Keats  was 
right  in  lamenting  that  the  rainbow  had  never  been  quite 
the  same,  in  spite  of  what  Wordsworth  said,  since  Newton 
looked  at  it  with  his  discerning  eye.  No  doubt  that  for  any 
wonder  Science  dissipates,  she  gives  us  twain;  but  they  are 
not  the  old  homely  wonders.  No  doubt,  though  Science  is 
ever  pushing  the  curtain  back  a  little  further,  so  that  half- 
wonders  disappear,  the  wonder  remains.  But  the  funda- 
mental mysteriousness  of  Nature  is  cold  comfort  for  the 
loss  of  the  wonder  of  the  rainbow  and  of  the  Northern  Lights, 
of  the  flower  in  the  crannied  wall  and  of  the  way  of  the 
eagle  in  the  air. 

The  fact  is  that  it  is  rather  the  scientific  mood  than  science 
that  is  opposed  to  feeling.  For  the  eyes  of  the  investigator 
have  neither  laughter  nor  tears.  In  the  actual  work  of 
science,  emotion  is  dangerous.  For  scientific  purposes  we 
must  look  out  of  one  window  only  and  with  all  possible  con- 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  29 

centration.  It  has  been  said,  though  it  is  a  dangerous  half- 
truth,  that  the  worst  kind  of  comparative  psychologist  is 
the  observer  who  is  devoted  to  his  animals. 

Especially  since  Darwin's  day,  we  have  been  learning 
in  biology  to  see  creatures  in  their  spatial  and  temporal 
linkages,  but  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  predominant 
method  of  science  is  analytic  and  deliberately  abstract, 
whereas  the  tendency  of  feeling  is  always  to  see  things  whole 
— synoptically.  As  Goethe  said,  ''  these  dissecting  opera- 
tions, ever  and  ever  continued,  produce  likewise  many  a 
disadvantage;  the  living  is  indeed  analysed  into  elements, 
but  it  cannot  be  brought  together  again  out  of  them  and 
animated  ".  Compared  with  the  biologist's  insight  the  shep- 
herd's outlook  is  superficial,  but  unless  the  biologist  can 
reconstruct  and  reanimate  he  has  lost  that  view  of  things 
in  their  totality  which  the  shepherd  has.  We  may  have  a 
profound  knowledge  of  the  life-history  of  a  creature  and 
yet  fail  to  get  that  imaginative  vision  which  the  authors  of 
Animal  Biographies  have  with  less  material  made  their  own. 

In  the  attempt  to  conserve  what  is  reached  through  feeling, 
to  which  Man  instinctively  tries  to  hold  firm,  satisfaction 
has  been  sought  in  ISTatu re-poetry,  in  symbolism,  in  Natural 
Theology,  or  in  an  idealisation  of  Nature  in  a  religious  halo. 
These  avenues  of  satisfaction,  these  pathways  to  reality, 
for  the  two  phrases  mean  much  the  same,  remain  happily 
open  to  many.  To  others,  however,  they  are  closed,  partly 
because  of  the  austerity  of  the  scientific  mood  and  partly 
because  there  is  a  lack  of  correlation.  Thus  much  Nature- 
poetry  is  too  like  antiquarian  or  reminiscent  architecture, 
evading  the  problem  of  idealising  the  present  in  offering  us 
constructions  whose  beauty  makes  us  forget  for  the  time 
that  they  are  anachronisms.     Similarly,  the  spiritualisations 


30  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

offered  bj  philosophy  and  by  theology  have  often  seemed 
unconvincing  because  imposed  from  without,  instead  of  aris- 
ing in  minds  saturated  with  the  actualities  of  the  case.  It 
goes  without  saying  that  there  have  been  poets,  philosophers, 
and  theologians  who  have  seized  on  the  universal  elements 
in  Nature  which  are  for  all  time.  It  is  also  obvious  that 
Nature-poems  may  be  literary  treasures  though  they  are  no 
longer  significant  to  us  in  our  world-outlook.  But  what 
we  want  to  get  at  is  simply  this:  What  counteractives  or 
compensations  may  there  be  for  those  in  whom  the  scientific 
mood  is  strong,  in  whom  neither  Nature-poem  nor  ancient 
Theodicy,  neither  philosophical  idealisation  nor  fairy  tale 
finds  satisfactory  organic  response. 

To  conserve  the  feeling  for  Nature — -at  once  a  satisfaction 
and  a  clue — we  may  get  what  aid  we  sincerely  can  from 
Nature-poetry  and  other  idealisations,  we  may  give  greater 
breadth  and  depth  to  our  vision  by  more  science,  we  may 
exercise  ourselves  in  scientific  reconstructions  till  the  Dryad 
comes  back  into  the  tree,  but  all  these  are  vanity  unless  we 
keep  close  to  the  concrete  realities  themselves,  and  receive 
with  open  minds  the  great  primal  impressions  of  immensity, 
flux,  order,  intricacy,  and  beauty,  not  refusing  to  be  thrilled 
by  what  seemed  to  our  more  naive  predecessors  to  be  immedi- 
ately divine. 

There  is  grandeur  in  the  spectacle  of  the  star-strewn  sky, 
so  apparently  crowded,  but  there  are  thousands  of  worlds 
unseen  for  every  one  our  unaided  eyes  can  image,  and  yet 
the  astronomers  tell  us  that  the  emptiness  of  space  is  its 
most  striking  characteristic.  We  are  staggered  by  the  fact 
that  when  we  look  at  a  Centauri,  which  lies  some  ten  billions 
of  miles  nearer  to  us  than  any  other  known  star,  we  see  it, 
not  as  it  is  to-night,  but  as  it  was  four  years  ago.     We  have 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  31 

no  mental  picture  of  the  remoteness  of  the  sun,  which  is 
the  earth's  ^  mother-countiy ',  but  if  the  sun  were  repre- 
sented in  a  model  by  a  grain  of  sand  one-hundredth  of  an 
inch  in  diameter,  and  the  earth  by  a  quite  invisible  speck 
one  inch  away,  the  nearest  star  would  be  represented  on 
this  scale  by  another  grain  of  sand  some  four  miles  off. 
One  knows  indeed  that  size  and  distance  are  in  a  way  the 
least  important  distinctions  in  the  world,  but  just  as  men 
often  lose  their  littleness  in  sojourning  among  the  great 
mountains,  so  it  is  part  of  the  significance  of  things  to  us 
that  we  belong  to  a  system  cast  on  big  lines.  We  are  citizens 
of  no  mean  city. 

JSTo  one  supposes  that  we  are  divided  into  scientific, 
aesthetic,  and  other  parts,  and  function  in  bits  as  it  were; 
or  that  there  is  an  antithesis,  like  good  and  evil,  between 
science  and  feeling;  or  that  there  is  any  such  thing  as  '  pure 
perception  '.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  as  Professor  Ritter  says, 
"  We  know-and-feel,  all  in  one  breath,  whenever  w^e  respond 
in  an  unsophisticated,  natural  manner  to  contacts  with  men 
and  things"  (1911,  P-  126).  Deeper  science  may  deepen 
feeling,  and  deeper  feeling  may  lead  to  deeper  science.  We 
are  inclined  to  agree  with  Ritter  that  ^^  we  cannot  interpret 
plant  and  animal  life  broadly  and  soundly  either  in  technical 
science  or  in  common  intelligence  unless  the  aesthetic  side 
of  our  nature  joins  with  the  intellectual  side  in  determining 
our  attitude  toward  the  beings  we  deal  with."  Progress  is 
to  be  looked  for  in  correlated,  not  dissociated  development. 
There  is  no  question  of  allowing  feeling  to  influence  our  cal- 
culations or  measurements,  for  the  scientific  accounts  are 
open  to  public  inspection  and  are  fortunately  audited  with 
severity.  But  we  need  not  think  that  the  ark  of  science  has 
such  an  unstable  equilibrium  that   a   touch   of   imaginative 


32  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

insight  will  upset  it.  There  is  no  question,  on  the  other 
hand,  of  admitting  into  our  feeling  for  Nature  any  element 
that  is  incongment  with  our  intellectual  experience.  That 
way  lies  sentimentalism  or  worse.  But  we  need  not  be  too 
timorous  in  our  anthropomorphism  or  afraid  of  exaggerating 
the  wonder  and  subtlety  of  Nature.  We  cannot,  for  our 
life's  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  our  philosophical  reconstruc- 
tion, afford  to  lose  in  scientific  analysis  what  the  poets  and 
artists  and  the  lovers  of  Nature  all  see.  It  is  intuitively 
felt,  rather  than  intellectually  perceived,  the  vision  of  things 
as  totalities,  root  and  all,  all  in  all;  neither  fancifully,  nor 
mystically,  but  sympathetically  in  their  wholeness.  There 
is  a  deep  wisdom  in  Wordsworth's  remark  in  one  of  his 
Prefaces: — ''  Poetry  is  the  breath  and  finer  spirit  of  all 
knowledge;  it  is  the  impassioned  expression  which  is  in  the 
countenance  of  all  science." 

To  all  those  who  remind  us  what  "  a  dubious  and  vary- 
ing oracle  "  feeling  has  proved  to  be  in  the  past,  we  would 
answer,  ''  But  how  often  a  wise  counsellor !  "  In  an  exalted 
mood  many  have  in  the  light  of  feeling  made  decisions  from 
which  the  happiness  of  a  lifetime  flowed,  and  it  was  a 
wise  man  who  declared  that  great  ideas  come  from  the  heart. 
We  mean  by  feeling  in  its  finer  expression  the  lamp  which 
others  have  called  intuition.  It  goes  out  if  not  tended,  and 
if  facts  do  not  form  part  of  its  oil  the  flame  will  sputter. 
But  it  is  a  light  in  the  region  '  beyond  science  '.  As  M. 
Bergson  writes,  ''  Sur  notre  personnalite,  sur  notre  liberte 
.  .  .  sur  notre  origine  et  peut-etre  aussi  sur  notre  destinee, 
elle  projette  une  lumiere  vacillante  et  faible,  mais  qui  n'en 
perce  pas  moins  Fobscuritl  de  la  nuit  oil  nous  laisse  Fin- 
telligence." 

The  words  ''  The  Unfathomed  Universe  ",  used  in  the  title 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  33 

of  this  lecture,  were  suggested  by  Walt  Whitman^s  well- 
known  line — "  Prais'd  be  the  fathomless  universe,  for  life 
and  joy,  and  for  the  objects  and  knowledge  curious."  Whit- 
man assuredly  strikes  the  right  note^ — that  of  the  joyous 
adventurer  sailing  into  opulent  seas  unexplored.  Wherever 
in  the  past  he  has  sounded  he  has  touched  treasure,  he  looks 
forward  to  winning  the  secrets  of  deeps  still  unfathomed. 
Experience  never  disappointed  surely  warrants  a  feeling 
of  expectancy,  an  impression  of  inexhaustible  riches — "'  these 
immense  meadows,  these  interminable  rivers  ",  horizon  be- 
yond horizon,  which  are  ours,  here  and  now,  to  seek  to 
appropriate. 

The  climax  of  intuition  is  mysticism,  and  those  of  us 
who  do  not  practise  it  must  not  brush  it  hastily  aside.  Many 
mystics  are  precise  and  logical  thinkers — though  they  ex- 
plore a  kingdom  beyond  science  and  logic.  Some  psycholo- 
gists have  suggested  that  in  conditions  of  quiet  or  of  exalta- 
tion, as  in  the  presence  of  fine  scenery,  there  may  enter  into 
the  focus  of  consciousness  some  larger  area  of  the  unconscious 
mind  than  is  usual  in  ordinary  life.  Others  believe  that 
the  mystic  is  thrilled  by  extra-human  influences.  All  that 
we  plead  for  is  a  recognition  of  the  fact  that  practical  men 
and  women  of  to-day  do  still  manage  to  get  into  an  original 
relation  with  Nature.  In  his  Candle  of  Vision  (1918),  A.  E. 
writes : 

"  I  draw  attention  to  the  mysterj^  in  common  and  obvious  things, 
and  ask  that  they  be  explained  and  not  slurred  over  as  if  no  explana- 
tion were  necessary.  I  ask  the  doubters  of  my  vision  to  penetrate 
a  little  into  the  mystery  of  their  own  thoughts  and  dreams  before 
they  cry  out  against  me,  who  for  many  years  travelled  far  and 
came  upon  lovely  and  inhabited  regions  to  which  I  would  also  lead 
them.  I  know  that  my  brain  is  a  court  where  many  h\ing  crea- 
tures throng,  and  I  am  never  alone  in  it.    You,  too,  can  know  that, 


34  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

if  you  heighten  the  imagination  and  intensify  the  will.  The  dark- 
ness in  you  will  begin  to  glow,  and  you  will  see  clearly,  and  you 
will  know  that  what  3'ou  thought  was  but  a  mosaic  of  memories  is 
rather  the  froth  of  a  gigantic  ocean  of  life,  breaking  on  the  shores 
of  matter,  casting  up  its  own  flotsam  to  mingle  with  the  life  of  the 
shores  it  breaks  on." 

And  speaking  of  the  concentration  required  in  the  habit  of 
vision,  he  says :  '^  It  is  an  exercise  this,  a  training  for  higher 
adventures  of  the  soul :  it  is  no  light  labour.  The  plough- 
man's cleaving  the  furrows  is  easier  by  far.  Five  minutes 
of  this  effort  will  at  first  leave  us  trembling  as  at  the  close 
of  a  laborious  day.'' 

Surely  students  of  science  should  be  the  last  to  dogmatise 
as  to  the  possibilities  of  this  life  of  ours. 

§  6.     Towards  a  Philosophical  Interpretation  of  Nature, 

As  the  scientific  order  transcends  the  empirical,  it  is  tran- 
scended in  turn  by  a  philosophical  order  which  aims  at  a 
harmonious  interpretation  of  our  experience  as  a  whole.  The 
essential  change  is  often  referred  to  as  passing  from  the 
'  how '  to  the  '  why  ',  from  analytic  and  historical  description 
to  interpretation,  but  there  is  also  this  difference  that  while 
science  must  keep  feeling  at  an  arm's  length,  philosophy 
seeks  to  give  a  view  of  the  world  that  will  satisfy  the  claims 
of  feeling  as  well  as  those  of  the  understanding.  It  is  just 
our  outlook  on  the  whole  of  life,  the  world  within  as  well 
as  the  world  without,  and  it  includes  the  assets  of  feeling 
as  well  as  intellectual  gains. 

To  illustrate  concretely :  biologists  are  easily  satisfied  with 
their  outlook  on  animate  nature  if  they  are  willing  to  leave 
out  of  account  the  fact  of  human  personality  at  its  best, 
or  the  fact  of  human  society.     We  may  define  our  biology 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  35 

so  as  to  exclude  them, — that  is  a  question  of  method, — but 
to  think  of  leaving  them  out  in  our  total  interpretation  of 
our  experience  is  to  allow  the  light  that  is  in  us  to  be 
darkened.  Similarly,  although  there  is  great  difference  of 
opinion  in  regard  to  the  philosophy  of  the  beautiful,  there 
is  general  agreement  that  our  total  outlook  on  Xature  is 
to  be  distrusted  if  the  fact  of  beauty  has  been  ignored. 
Feeling  is  to  be  excluded  from  scientific  investigation,  but 
it  must  be  allowed  to  operate  in  our  philosophical  synthesis. 
Perhaps  we  may  say  that  feeling  supplies  the  mortar  in 
which  are  laid  the  stones  contributed  by  ISTatural  Science 
to  the  (synoptic)  edifice  which  the  genius  of  Philosophy  is 
building. 

There  are  several  hopeful  indications  of  an  advance 
towards  a  philosophical  order  of  E'ature.  The  first  is  the 
increasing  correlation  of  the  sciences,  which  are  parts  of 
one  endeavour  to  understand  the  order  of  l^ature  and  Man's 
life  in  its  midst.  The  sciences  work  into  one  another's  hands 
in  correlation,  and  this  has  always  been  fruitful,  as  is  well 
illustrated  by  the  transforming  and  vitalising  of  chemistry 
after  it  joined  hands  with  physics.  The  scientific  study 
of  animal  behaviour,  still  in  the  freshness  of  its  youth,  shows 
us  the  effectiveness  of  a  combined  attack — psychological  and 
biological — on  a  difficult  set  of  problems.  The  autonomy 
of  biology  is  not  inconsistent  with  its  correlation — impenum 
in  imperio — with  chemistry  and  physics  on  the  one  hand 
and  psychology  and  sociology  on  the  other.  AYliile  the 
sciences  are  separated  off  for  the  sake  of  clearness,  because 
they  pursue  different  methods,  use  different  tools,  and  sum 
up  in  different  kinds  of  formulae,  they  work  into  one  another's 
hands,  and  they  are  simply  different  modes  of  one  rational 
inquiry.    Their  mutual  influence  is  increased,  not  decreased, 


36  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

when  each  recognises  its  abstractness ;  and  the  hope  of  their 
leading  on  to  a  philosophical  order  is  in  proportion  to  the 
clearness  with  which  it  is  recognised  that  a  synthesis  is  not 
additive. 

It  is  customary  to  speak  of  the  unity  of  the  sciences,  and 
no  doubt  they  are  beginning  to  form  a  system  or  hierarchy, 
but  the  ideal  of  one  science  of  Nature — the  ideal  of  Descartes, 
of  Hobbes,  of  Leibniz — is  giving  place  to  an  ideal  of  cor- 
relation rather  than  of  unity.  There  has  been  much  profit- 
able breaking  do^^Ti  of  artificial  partitions,  much  fruitful 
co-operation  of  several  sciences  on  one  problem,  many  a  use- 
ful discovery  of  a  common  denominator  bringing  apparently 
disconnected  facts  into  comparable  relationship,  but  the 
materialistic  proposal  to  make  physiology  a  branch  of 
physics,  and  psychology  a  branch  of  physiology,  has  not  been 
substantiated.  Biology  and  Psychology  remain  autonomous, 
with  categories  of  their  own.  Treating  of  the  work  of  science, 
Prof.  A.  E.  Dolbear  writes :  "  By  explanation  is  meant  the 
presentation  of  the  mechanical  antecedents  for  a  phenomenon 
in  so  complete  a  way  that  no  supplementary  or  unknown 
factors  are  necessary.'^  If  that  kind  of  explanation  were 
feasible  throughout,  there  would  be  one  science  of  Nature, 
in  terms  of  ideal  motions,  expressible  in  mathematical 
formulae.  But  this  is  false  simplicity;  it  does  not  really 
work.  Thus,  to  take  a  clear  case,  in  the  higher  reaches  of 
animal  behaviour,  most  biologists  admit  the  necessity  of 
invoking  other  than  mechanical  factors. 

The  second  hopeful  sign  we  have  already  referred  to,  the 
frank  recognition  on  the  part  of  science  that  it  is  not  its 
role  to  solve  the  riddles  of  the  universe.  It  remains  more 
or  less  open  to  students  of  science  to  deny  the  feasibility 
of  any  solution  and  to  doubt  the  value  of  any  generalisations 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  37 

save  those  called  scientific,  but  there  has  been  perfect  open- 
ness in  the  retreat  from  the  position  of  world-interpretation. 
^o  longer  should  it  be  possible  to  ask,  as  the  title  of  a  not 
very  ancient  book  does,  "  God  or  Natural  Selection  ?  ",  for 
that  is  opposing  an  interpretative  concept  to  a  descriptive 
formula,  in  short,  trying  to  talk  two  languages  at  once. 

The  third  hopeful  sign,  as  it  seems  to  an  outsider,  is  a 
change  on  the  part  of  Philosophy  in  its  relations  with  Science. 
There  is  a  growing  recognition  that  Philosophy  must  use  in 
her  characteristically  interpretative  reconstruction  all  the  gen- 
eral results  of  the  sciences.  The  Procrustean  attempt  to  force 
the  facts  of  Nature  to  fit  a  premeditated  abstract  intellectual 
scheme  is  not  more  promising  than  the  antipodal  attempt 
to  wring  a  philosophical  system  out  of  Nature  alone.  The 
reaction  of  Lotze  from  Schelling  may  serve  as  a  diagrammatic 
illustration  of  what  is  now  taking  place  in  our  midst ;  that 
philosophy  is  using  the  best  that  science  can  give,  and  is 
systematising  that  along  with  the  other  winnings  of  the  de- 
veloping human  spirit. 

Prof.  A.  E.  Taylor  gives  (1909,  p.  192)  a  luminous 
statement  of  the  relation  between  science  and  philosophy : 

"  The  work  of  the  Philosophy  of  Nature  and  of  Mind  onlj'  begins 
where  that  of  the  experimental  sciences  leaves  oE.  Its  data  are  not 
particular  facts,  as  directly  amassed  by  experiment  and  obser\'atiou, 
but  the  hypotheses  used  by  experimental  science  for  the  co-ordina- 
tion and  description  of  these  facts.  And  it  examines  these  hypoth- 
eses, not  with  the  object  of  modif3ang  their  structure  so  as  to  in- 
clude new  facts,  or  to  include  the  old  facts  in  a  simpler  form,  but 
purely  for  the  purpose  of  estimating  their  value  as  an  account  of 
ultimately  real  existence.  Whether  the  hypotheses  are  adequate  as 
implements  for  the  calculation  of  natural  processes  is  a  question 
which  Philosophy,  when  it  understands  its  place,  leaves  entirely 
to  the  special  sciences;  whether  they  can  claim  to  be  more  than 
useful  formulaB  for  calculation,  i.e.,  whether  they  give  us  knowledge 


38  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

of  ultimate  Reality,  is  a  problem  which  can  only  be  dealt  with  by 
the  science  which  systematically  analj^ses  the  meaning  of  reality, 
i.e.,  by  Metaphysics.  We  may  perhaps  follow  the  usage  of  some 
recent  writers  in  marking  this  difference  of  object  by  a  difference 
in  terminology,  and  say  that  the  goal  of  experimental  science  is 
the  description  of  facts,  the  goal  of  Metaphysics  their  interpretation. 
The  difference  of  aim  is,  however,  not  ultimate.  Description  of  facts, 
when  once  we  cease  to  be  content  with  such  description  as  will  sub- 
serve the  purpose  of  calculation,  and  call  for  the  description  of  the 
fact  as  it  really  is,  of  itself  becomes  metaphysical  interpretation." 

Along  with  the  sympathetic  interest  that  many  modem 
philosophers  (such  as  Ward,  Royce,  Pringle-Pattison,  Stout, 
Taylor,  Lovejoy,  Bergson)  have  taken  in  the  general  results 
of  science,  there  is  benefit  accruing  to  science  through  their 
expert  criticism  of  scientific  categories.  For  the  mood 
and  training  of  the  scientific  investigator  is  rarely  such 
that  it  leads  far  in  that  direction.  Some  of  the  ablest 
scientific  minds  the  world  has  known  have  betrayed  in 
their  would-be  philosophical  deliverances  an  extraordinary 
naivete. 

In  thinking  of  the  empirical,  scientific,  and  philosophical 
orders  as  reconstructions  of  increasing  completeness  and, 
it  is  hoped,  of  increasing  nearness  to  reality,  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  they  co-exist  in  our  midst  like  outcrops  of 
strata  of  different  epochs.  Thus  we  have  little  more  than 
empirical  knowledge  in  regard  to  the  variability  of  living 
creatures,  or  in  regard  to  certain  obscure  diseases.  In  med- 
ical practice,  stock-breeding,  and  engineering,  empirical 
knowledge  has  often  worked  extraordinarily  well.  The  ex- 
planation is  sometimes  diagnostic  genius,  sometimes  remark- 
able development  of  perception  in  quite  ordinary  individuals. 
A  patiently  accumulated  working  knowledge  often  leads  a 
shrewd  man  a  long  way  without  much  science  in  the  strict 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  39 

sense.  Similarly  there  are  many  who  have  established  for 
themselves  scientific  order  over  large  areas,  but  have  not 
sought  to  correlate  it  v^^ith  other  parts  of  their  experience, 
thus  failing  of  philosophical  endeavour.  And  others  who 
seek  do  not  find.  Similarly,  many  scholars  who  have  a 
philosophy  of  history  have  neither  a  philosophy  nor  a  science 
of  [N'ature.  It  is  to  be  recognised,  then,  that  the  empirical, 
the  scientific,  and  the  philosophical  order  co-exist  in  us  and 
in  our  midst. 

Another  note  may  be  permitted.  It  has  often  been  pointed 
out  that  progress  in  intellectual  construction  is  correlated 
with  mastery  of  environing  conditions.  As  compared  with 
the  early  working  knowledge,  the  scientific  order  meant  in- 
creased control  of  ISTature,  and  as  science  has  grown  our 
mastery  has  widened  and  deepened.  We  have  only  to  think 
of  the  successive  harnessings  of  wind,  water,  steam,  and  elec- 
tricity. Preventive  medicine  and  hygiene,  the  arts  of  agri- 
culture and  breeding  are  good  instances  of  the  passage  from 
control  of  the  inorganic  to  the  control  of  organisms.  When 
we  look  around  and  see  how  much  men  suffer  from  a  par- 
tiality of  view  that  is  remediable  and  from  philosophies 
which  are  discreditable,  is  it  too  much  to  hope  that  the  grow- 
ing philosophical  order  is  going  to  lead  us  to  an  increased 
control  of  the  higher  issues  of  life — an  aid  which  Religion 
w^ill  be  unwise  to  refuse  ? 

§  7.     Science  and  Religion. 

Science  is  frankly  empirical  in  method  and  aim;  it  seeks 
to  discover  the  laws  of  concrete  being  and  becoming,  and  to 
formulate  these  in  the  simplest  terms,  which  are  either  im- 
mediate data  of  experience  or  verifiably  derived  therefrom. 
The  scientific  '  universe  of  discourse  '  does  not  include  tran- 


40  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

scendental  concepts;  its  aim  does  not  include  attempting  to 
give  ultimate  explanations. 

Religion  has  been  described  as  the  orienting  of  our  life 
towards  the  True,  the  Beautiful,  and  the  Good.  But  this 
does  not  grip ;  it  leaves  out  the  essential — the  mystical — ele- 
ment. Religion  in  essence  ahvays  implies  a  recognition — 
practical,  emotional,  and  intellectual — of  a  higher  or  deeper 
order  of  reality  than  is  reached  in  sense-experience.  It  means 
the  recognition  of  an  unseen  universe,  which  throws  light  on 
the  riddles  of  the  observed  world — a  light  which  may  give 
aid.  In  the  scientific  light  of  common  day  are  seen  the 
hosts  of  the  Assyrians  encompassing  the  city;  the  opened 
religious  eye  sees  the  mountains  crowded  with  the  chariots 
of  God. 

But  let  us  quote  an  authority.  Prof.  D.  S.  Cairns  writes 
(1918,  p.  21)  :  ^^  Religion  is,  fundamentally,  on  the  human 
side,  man's  protest  and  appeal  to  the  Supreme  against  the 
sorrows,  indignities,  and  sins  of  this  present  world.  It  is 
the  endeavour  of  man,  through  that  appeal,  to  unite  him- 
self with  the  life  of  that  unseen  and  ruling  world,  and  so 
to  win  the  power  from  it  to  dominate  and  transmute  the 
life  of  time.  That  is  to  say,  in  essence,  religion,  on  the 
human  side,  is  simply  the  sustained  endeavour  to  meet  this 
great  human  problem  of  the  destroying  Mature  and  the 
struggling  personality.  All  religions  have  this  at  their  heart. 
They,  one  and  all,  start  from  an  act  of  faith  in  an  unseen 
world  which  is  mightier  than  the  world  of  sense  and  time, 
and  which  is  either  already  friendly  or  may  be  made  friendly 
to  the  worshippers."  He  goes  on  to  say  that  in  all  religions 
there  may  be  recognised  three  great  constant  elements — the 
conception  of  an  unseen  ruling  world,  some  idea  of  the 
supreme  good  which  the  worshipper  may  derive  from  Heaven 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  41 

for  the  enhancement  of  his  life,  and  some  way  or  means 
of  uniting  the  worshipper  with  God  or  the  gods. 

It  is  evident,  then,  that  the  religious  language  is  not  the 
scientific  language,  and  that  it  is  impossible  to  intermingle 
the  two.  The  religious  concepts  are  different  and  apparently 
more  metaphysical ;  their  aim  is  interpretation  rather  than 
description.  In  short,  science  and  religion  are  incommen- 
surables. 

But  to  call  religion  and  science  ^  incommensurables  '  is 
not  to  fall  back  on  the  old-fashioned  impossible  device  of 
having  idea-tight  compartments.  Just  as  a  novel  scientific 
generalisation  is  not  incorporated  in  our  scientific  system 
unless  consistent  with  previously  established  conclusions,  or 
unless  the  latter  can  be  adjusted  to  meet  the  new  idea  har- 
moniously, so  at  a  greater  height,  where  philosophical  dis- 
cipline is  invaluable,  a  religious  idea,  such  as  that  of  a  Divine 
Creator,  must  be  congruent  with  the  rest  of  our  world-picture, 
e.g.,  with  the  idea  of  evolution.  It  is  the  criterion  of  con- 
sistency that  saves  from  superstition. 

Men  are  led  to  religion  along  many  pathways — from  the 
perplexities  of  the  moral  life,  from  an  appreciation  of 
the  facts  of  history,  and  from  the  experience  of  reaching  the 
limits  of  practical  endeavour,  of  emotional  expression,  and 
of  intellectual  inquiry.  When  we  think  of  the  last-named 
three  pathways  to  religion,  which  many  tread, — through 
baulked  struggle,  over-strained  emotion,  and  baffled  search 
after  clear  understanding, — we  can  see  why  the  rapid  devel- 
opment of  science  should,  for  a  time  of  transition  at  least, 
work  against  religion.  For  science  gives  Man  from  time  to 
time  a  greatly  increased  mastery  over  ISTature;  science,  with 
its  analytical  triumphs,  ever  tends  to  diminish,  in  the  shallow- 
minded,  the  saving  grace  of  wonder;   and  science  is  ever 


42  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

dispelling  the  darkness  that  oppresses  the  mind.  Moreover, 
the  scientific  mood,  inherently  sceptical,  has  been  widely  dif- 
fused; its  activity  has  a  growing  fascination  of  its  own;  it 
easily  comes  to  preoccupy  the  mind,  and  thus  tends  to 
crowd  out  the  aesthetic,  the  poetic,  and  the  religious  moods. 
And  yet  we  believe  that  religious  interpretation  and  scientific 
analysis  are  equally  natural  and  necessary  expressions  of  the 
developing  human  spirit. 

When  we  are  thrilled  with  the  wonder  of  the  world,  the 
heights  and  depths  of  things,  the  beauty  of  it  all,  we  approach 
the  door  of  natural  religion.  And  when  the  Nature-feeling 
is  not  superficial  but  informed  with  knowledge,  with  no  gain 
of  the  hard-won  analysis  unused,  we  may  reach  the  threshold. 
And  when  we  feel  that  our  scientific  cosmology  leaves  Isis 
still  veiled^  and  when  our  attempts  at  philosophical  inter- 
pretation give  us  a  reasoned  conviction  of  a  meaning  behind 
the  process,  we  may  perhaps  enter  in.  That  the  entrance  is 
not  easy  is  shown  by  the  unhappy  prevalence  of  a  profane 
world-outlook  outside  the  ranks  of  disciplined  thinkers  and 
investigators,  on  the  one  hand,  and  religious,  poetical,  and 
artistic  lovers  of  Nature  on  the  other.  The  difficulty  of  the 
entrance  is  partly  due  to  race,  for  North  Temperate  peoples 
with  no  Celtic  strain  never  find  religion  easy,  partly  due 
to  preoccupation  either  with  the  good  things  or  with  the 
thick  shadows  of  this  life,  and  partly  due  to  a  misunder- 
standing of  the  results  of  science.  It  is  the  last  hindrance 
to  religion  that  concerns  us  in  this  course  of  lectures. 

What  must  be  worked  towards  is  a  philosophical  co-ordina- 
tion of  the  essential  results  of  Biology  and  the  other  sciences 
with  the  results  erf  intellectual  inquiry  in  other  fields  and 
by  other  methods,  allowing  at  the  same  time  for  those 
glimpses  of  reality  that  feeling  alone  affords.     In  this  task 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  43 

it  is  all-important  that  we  get  at  the  facts,  for  there  are 
in  currency  many  conclusions  in  regard  to  Nature  which 
can  no  longer  be  accepted  as  well  grounded.  What  we  may 
reach  can  only  be  provisional,  for  the  data  of  science  are 
in  process  of  rapid  change;  but  there  will  be  some  reward 
if  we  can  eliminate  some  spurious  and  obsolete  coinage. 

Whatever  be  our  philosophical  interpretation  or  religious 
conviction,  w^e  do  well  to  have  more  than  a  passing  acquaint- 
ance with  the  world  without,  with  the  process  of  which 
our  life  is  part.  The  aim  of  this  course  is  to  state  the 
general  results  of  biological  inquiry  which  must  be  taken 
account  of  if  we  are  to  think  of  ISTature  as  a  whole  and  in 
relation  to  the  rest  of  our  experience.  The  first  part  of  the 
course  will  deal  with  the  realm  of  organisms  as  it  is — so  far 
as  its  changefulness  permits;  the  second,  with  its  evolution, 
— past,  present,   and  possible. 

SUMMARY, 

In  primitive  times  man  had  a  slowly  growing  recognition  of  an 
empirical  order  of  nature,  a  very  imperfect  control  of  natural 
forces,  and  a  theory  of  magic  or  of  animism. 

The  empirical  order  has  gradually  given  place  to  a  scientific 
order,  ever  broadening  and  deepening;  and  man's  control  of  Nature 
has  increased  in  proportion.  One  science  has  been  added  to  another 
in  elaborate  specialisation,  and  there  has  also  grown  up  a  scientific 
system  or  *  world-outlook '  which  verges  on  philosophy.  This  world- 
outlook  has  ceased  to  be  geocentric  or  narrowly  anthropocentric. 
The  reign  of  law  and  the  process  of  evolution  have  been  recognised. 

The  direct  motives  of  scientific  inquiry  are,  in  the  main,  intel- 
lectual curiosity,  a  self-preservative  dislike  of  obscurities,  a  desire 
after  unity  and  continuity  in  our  outlook.  It  is  a  quite  specific 
endeavour  to  get  things  under  intelligent  control,  so  that  we  can 
think  of  them  clearly  in  relation  to  the  rest  of  our  knowledge,  and 
60  that  we  can  act  effectively  on  the  basis  they  afford.  The  aim  of 
science  is  to  describe  natural  phenomena  as  precisely  as  possible, 


44  THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE 

as  simply  as  possible,  as  completely  as  possible,  and  as  consistently 
as  possible.  But  this  view  of  Laws  of  Nature  as  merely  descriptive 
formulse  must  not  be  exaggerated;  the  formulae  often  imply  a  great 
deal  of  preliminary  analysis  and  reduction,  which  is  '  explanation ' 
of  a  sort;  they  must  be  verifiable  by  all  noinnally  constituted  minds; 
and  that  they  bear  close  correspondence  to  the  actualities  of  Nature 
is  show^n  by  the  way  in  which  we  use  them  safely  in  prediction. 
Moreover,  the  descriptive  formulations  of  science  must,  in  relevant 
cases,  be  followed  by  a  historical  or  genetic  account  of  the  sub- 
jects of  study — especially,  of  course,  when  we  are  working  within 
the  boundaries  of  the  realm  of  organisms. 

The  limitations  of  natural  knowledge  are  great.  We  know  Nature 
only  in  the  mirror  of  our  minds;  we  are  limited  by  our  senses;  we 
cannot  make  scientific  progress  without  taking  partial  or  abstract 
views,  and  the  correlation  of  these  is  difficult;  our  fundamental  con- 
cepts (like  'matter,'  'energy,'  'organism')  are  not  self-explanatory, 
but  big  with  mystery;  they  are  not  final,  but  in  process  of  develop- 
ment; the  law  of  gravitation  is  perhaps  the  finest  example  of  a 
far-reaching  descriptive  formula,  but  it  does  not  tell  us  why  the 
apple  falls  to  the  ground;  in  some  departments  of  science  we  try 
to  give  historical  descriptions  or  to  trace  genetic  series,  but  we  know 
little  of  any  beginnings;  the  world  is  full  of  unsolved  concrete 
problems — thus  such  a  common  phenomenon  as  cell-division  remains 
in  great  part  an  enigma;  there  are  hints  of  facts  beyond  our  present 
horizon;  and  so  on.  In  an  age  of  extraordinarily  rapid  scientific 
discovery,  we  stand  wondering  before  an  unfathomed  universe. 

The  world  without  has  played  an  important  part  in  the  evolution 
of  the  human  spirit.  Its  enigmas  have  educated  our  intelligence; 
its  practical  problems  have  trained  our  will ;  and  in  Animate  Nature 
in  particular  Man  has  found  a  school  of  feeling.  In  her  varied 
opportunities  Nature  has  helped  in  polishing  the  mirror  of  our 
minds  in  which  we  see  her,  and  there  is  no  reason  to  believe  that 
the  polishing  is  finished.  As  regards  feeling  for  Nature,  however, 
the  scientific  mood,  now  so  dominant,  is  antipodal,  and  the  scientific 
sj^stematisations  may  be  actively  hostile.  Nature-poetry,  symbolism, 
Natural  Theology,  philosophical  idealisations,  and  religious  spiritual- 
isations — valuable  as  they  may  be  to  attuned  minds — fail  in  many 
cases  to  find  any  satisfactory  organic  response,  and  the  life  of 
feeling  has  been  impoverished.  Yet  to  try  to  leave  feeling  out  in  our 
view  of  Nature  is  to  try  to  close  one  of  the  right-of-way  paths  to 


THE  UNFATHOMED  UNIVERSE  45 

reality.  To  conserve  this  element  of  feeling,  to  which  the  analytic 
mood  of  science  is  opposed,  it  is  above  all  necessary  to  keep  close 
to  the  concrete  realities  themselves,  keeping  an  open  mind  to  their 
influences.  In  this  endeavour  science  may  be  of  use,  as  a  means  of 
culture  rather  than  as  an  intellectual  formulation,  adding  depth, 
order,  and  connectedness  to  our  vision.  In  the  cultivation  of  feehng, 
which  requires  to  be  kept  well  in  hand,  mental  elbow-room  must 
be  given  to  the  fundamental  impressions  of  immensity,  flux,  order, 
intricacy,  and  beauty. 

Movement  towards  a  philosophical  Order  of  Nature,  i.e.,  towards 
a  harmonious  interpretation  of  Nature  along  with  the  rest  of  our 
experience,  may  be  discerned  in  the  growing  correlation  of  the 
sciences,  in  the  re-definition  of  their  aim  (descriptive  rather  than 
explanatory),  in  the  aid  that  has  been  given  to  science  by  philo- 
sophical criticism  of  its  categories,  and  in  the  endeavour  that  is 
increasingly  made  by  philosophers  to  take  the  results  of  science 
into  their  consideration.  Perhaps  it  may  be  said  that  feeling 
supplies  the  mortar  in  which  are  laid  the  stones  contributed  by 
Natural  Science  to  the  edifice  which  the  genius  of  Philosophy  is 
building. 

When  we  are  thrilled  with  the  wonder  of  the  world,  the  heights 
and  depths  of  things;  when  our  Nature-feeling  is  informed  with 
knowledge;  when  our  science  leaves  us  with  a  conviction  of  the 
mysteriousness  of  Nature — the  unfathomed  universe;  when  our 
philosophical  outlook  leads  us  towards  a  realisation  of  a  meaning 
behind  the  process;  then  there  may  be  a  total  reaction  on  our  part 
worthy  of  the  name  of  Natural  Religion.  To  facilitate  this  reaction 
— by  an  accurate  presentation  of  the  facts — is  one  of  the  objects 
of  this  course. 


LECTURE  IL 
THE  REALM  OF  ORGAISTISMS  CONTEASTED  WITH 

THE  domai:n^  of  the  INOEGANIC. 


I 


LECTURE  II. 

THE  REALM  OF  0RGA:^ISMS  CONTRASTED  WITH 
THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC. 

§  1.  Things  and  Living  Creatures.  §  2.  The  Characteristic  Features 
of  the  Realm  of  Organisms.  §  3.  J.  Multitude  of  Individual- 
ities, yet  a  Systema  Naturce.  §  4.  Abundance  and  Insurgence 
of  Life.  §  5.  Struggle  and  Sifting.  §  6.  J.  System  of  Inter- 
related Lives.  §  7.  The  Prevalence  of  Adaptations.  §  8,  The 
Pervasiveness  of  Beauty.  §  9.  The  Other  Side  of  the  Picture. 
§  10.  Resemblances  between  the  Realm  of  Organisms  and  the 
Domain  of  the  Inorganic.  §  11.  Contrasts  between  the  Realm 
of  Organisms  and  the  Domain  of  the  Inorganic.  §  12.  The 
Suitability  of  the  Inorganic  to  be  the  Basis  and  Environment 
of  the  Organic. 

§  1.    Things  and  Living  Creatures, 

In  the  concrete  fulness  of  the  world  without,  we  distin- 
guish by  common  consent  the  realm  of  organisms  and  the 
domain  of  the  inorganic.  Sun  and  stars,  sky  and  sea,  moun- 
tains and  rivers,  the  air  we  breathe  and  the  dust  beneath  our 
feet,  crystals  and  precious  stones,  it  seems  like  colour-blind- 
ness to  sum  this  up  in  the  negative  and  unattractive  term 
^  inorganic '.  But  better  that  than  use  a  question-begging 
word. 

We  must  not  dogmatically  say  *"  inanimate '  Nature,  for 
it  is  making  a  sweeping  assertion  to  declare  that  the  inor- 
ganic cannot  have  a  meta-kinetic  aspect.  Nor  is  it  quite 
satisfactory  to  speak  of  '  the  meclianical  order  of  things  \  for 
we  ourselves  illustrate  mechanical  principles,  even  when  we 
raise  our  arm  or  eyebrow  in  protest.     Moreover,  it  cannot 

49 


50      THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 

be  said  that  a  mechanical  sunmiing  up  of  even  not-living 
occurrences  is  necessarily  exhaustive.  ISTor  can  we  speak 
with  satisfactory  precision  of  the  '  physical  order ' ,  for  living 
creatures  are  also  physical  systems,  though  more ;  and  the 
phrase  '  purely  physical '  is  again  question-begging. 

So  let  us  call  it  all — from  the  solar  system  to  the  dew-drop 
— the  inorganic  domain.  We  cannot  hold  it  rigidly  apart 
from  living  organisms,  for  it  is  continually  undergoing  mod- 
ification at  their  hands.  Parts  of  it  are  ever  entering  into 
the  bodies  of  organisms,  and  into  its  repository  the  disen- 
chanted dust  of  life  is  ever  returning.  We  know  the  inor- 
ganic system  of  things  only  in  terms  of  mind,  and  our  first 
adventure  of  scientific  faith  is  to  believe  in  its  external 
reality;  yet  it  looms  impressively  over  us — a  great  dumb 
giant,  holding  us,  even  in  our  defiance,  in  its  grip  and  bear- 
ing us  with  it  on  its  stupendous  journeying  through  space. 

§  2.    The  Characteristic  Features  of  the  Realm  of  Organisms. 

Let  us  begin  with  an  impressionist  survey  of  the  realm 
of  organisms,  and  after^^^ards  contrast  this  with  a  general 
view  of  the  inorganic  domain.  It  is  surely  a  magnificent 
spectacle  that  the  obviously  animate  presents.  What  a  gamut 
of  life  from  the  microscoj^ic  Infusorian  to  the  giant  whale, 
from  the  hyssop  on  the  wall  to  the  cedar  of  Lebanon !  What 
abundance  of  life  is  revealed  when  the  dredge  comes  up, 
or  when  the  insects  rise  before  us  in  a  cloud  as  we  walk 
through  the  grassland  of  a  warm  country.  What  variety  of 
architecture,  what  abundance  of  individuality  within  the 
same  style !  All  is  suggestive  of  fertile  imagination.  How 
strong  the  pressure,  as  the  waves  of  life  surge  up  against 
their  shores;  how  numberless  the  hand-and-glove  fitnesses; 
how  subtle  the  linkages;  how  constant  the  changefulness ; 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       51 

how  universal  the  beauty !  But  let  us  be  more  analytic  and 
illustrate  in  due  order  the  deeper  impressions  which  fill  the 
mind  after  the  crowd  of  details  sinks  to  rest,  for  these  must 
form  part  of  the  materials  which  Biology  gives  over  to 
Philosophy  to  build  with. 

§  3.    A  Multitude  of  Individualities,  yet  a  Systema  Naturce. 

When  we  look  at  IN'ature  with  a  fresh  eye,  in  a  new  coun- 
try, or  in  some  novel  experience  such  as  dredging,  we  have 
a  transient  impression  of  overwhelming  confusion,  as  if 
Aladdin's  cave  had  been  suddenly  burst  open  before  us. 
Many  miss  this  in  ordinary  circumstances  because  familiarity 
breeds  the  contempt  of  inattention,  and  also  because  a  very 
large  number  of  living  creatures  are  cryptozoic.  For  every 
conspicuous  plant  there  are  often  a  score  inconspicuous,  and 
for  every  readily  visible  animal  there  must  be  a  hundred 
unseen.  It  is  not  of  individuals  that  we  are  thinking,  but 
of  individualities,  of  species.  There  are  at  least  25,000 
named  backboned  animals,  ten  times  as  many  named  back- 
boneless  animals,  and  about  as  many  plants.  There  are 
about  100,000  Dicotyledonous  Flowering  Plants.  Darwin 
speaks  of  finding  twenty  different  kinds  of  flowering  plants 
on  a  patch  of  turf  four  feet  by  three,  and  there  may  be  as 
many  different  kinds  of  animals  on  one  stone  brought  up 
from  the  sea-floor. 

The  study  of  marine  animals  has  been  enthusiastic  and  in- 
tense for  many  years,  but  those  who  know  most  about  it  will 
agree  with  what  the  poet  Spenser  said  long  ago : 

"  But  what  an  endlesse  worke  have  I  in  hand, 
To  count  the  seas  abundant  progeny,' 
Whose  fruitful  seede  farre  passeth  those  on  land, 
And  also  those  which  wonne  in  th'  azure  sky ; 
For  much  more  eath,  to  tell  the  stan'cs  on  hy, 


52      THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 

Albe  they  endlesse  seem  in  estimation, 

Than  to  recount  the  seas  posterity; 

So  fertile  be  the  floods  in  generation, 

So  huge  their  numbers,  and  so  numberlesse  their  nation." 

We  shall  come  later  on   to   the    difficult   problem    of   in- 
dividuality or  species;  but  our  view  of  Nature  as  a  whole 
must  take  account  of  the  fact  that  species  are  multitudinous 
and  that  they  represent  discontinuous  individualities,  with 
much  more  constancy  than  the  earlier  DarT\dnians  supposed. 
Linnaeus  said :  ^'  There  are  as  many  species  as  there  were 
ideas  in  the  Divine  Mind  ",  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  a  good 
species  is  like  a  clear-cut  idea.     At  the  other  extreme  of 
comparison,  it  is  like  a  chemical  element,  but  on  a  higher 
plane.     As  Goethe  said,  ''  The  one  thing  Nature  seems  to 
aim  at  is  Individuality;  yet  she  cares  nothing  for  individ- 
uals.''    If  we  personify  ^  Animate  Nature ',  it  must  at  least 
be   as  an   artist   with   inexhaustible    imaginative   resources, 
with  extraordinary  mastery  of  materials. 

But  in  the  prodigal  wealth  of  individuality,  it  is  not  a 
daemonic  confusion,  but  a  rational  order  that  we  see.  The 
species  are  remarkably  unique  and  discontinuous,  each  with 
a  character  of  its  own,  yet  they  are  often  like  stages  in  in- 
dividual development,  and  they  can  often  be  classified  in  a 
logical  series.  Linnaeus  established  his  Systema  Naturae 
quite  apart  from  any  evolutionist  conception,  and  though  the 
fact  of  genetic  relationship  lies  behind  every  so-called  nat- 
ural classification,  our  present  point  is  simply  that  ^'  Each  of 
her  works  has  an  essence  of  its  own ;  each  of  her  phenomena 
a  special  characterisation;  and  yet  their  diversity  is  in 
unity  ". 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       53 

§  4.     Abundance  and  Insurgence  of  Life. 

'A  second  impression  is  that  of  wealth  of  numbers  and  of 
indomitable  will  to  live.  There  are,  indeed,  organisms  which 
multiply  slowly,  such  as  elephants,  golden  eagles,  and  cen- 
tury plants,  but  this  is  not  the  way  with  the  majority.  JMost 
of  the  streams  of  life  are  ever  tending  to  overflow  their 
banks.  Even  the  rarities  may  do  so  in  appropriate  condi- 
tions ;  thus  a  rather  rare  wingless  Glacier-Insect  was  recently 
found  on  one  stretch  of  the  mer-de-glace  at  Chamonix  in 
numbers  almost  equal  to  the  population  of  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland.  In  the  case  of  organisms  of  low  individuation, 
which  hold  their  own  rather  because  they  are  many  than  be- 
cause they  are  strong  or  wise,  the  productivity  is  beyond  all 
our  powers  of  conception.  From  one  Infusorian  there  may  be 
a  million  by  the  end  of  a  week,  and  in  some  of  the  floating 
meadows  of  the  sea  there  may  be  a  quarter  of  a  million  units 
in  a  gallon  of  water. 

There  is  a  well-known  British  starfish,  Luidia  cilians, 
which  produces  at  least  two  hundred  millions  of  eggs,  and  yet 
it  is  not  what  one  would  call  a  common  animal. 

We  are  familiar  with  calculations  of  what  would  occur 
if  there  were  no  thinning  of  the  crops — how  soon  the  earth 
would  be  covered  with  a  weed,  or  the  sea  filled  solid  with  a 
fish,  or  the  sky  darkened  with  an  insect,  and  recurrent 
plagues  of  locusts,  sparrows,  rabbits,  and  moles  remind  us 
that  a  possibility  may  easily  become  an  actuality.  After 
allowing  a  prodigious  mortality  of  95  per  cent.,  it  is  com- 
puted that  the  10,000,000  pairs  of  breeding  rats  in  Britain 
on  New  Year's  Day,  1918,  were  represented  by  40,000,000 
pairs  at  the  end  of  the  year,  and  by  12,000,000  more  pairs 
the  following  month !    There  is  a  grimness  in  the  well-known 


54       THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 

remarks  of  Linnaeus  that  three  flies  will  consume  the  cai^ 
case  of  a  horse  as  quickly  as  a  lion  can.  Professor  Woodruff 
observed  the  successive  asexual  generations  of  the  common 
slipper-animalcule  (Paramecium)  for  five  years  between  1907 
and  1912  and  found  that  there  were  3,029  of  them — over 
three  every  forty-eight  hours.  Careful  calculation  showed 
that  they  had  given  evidence  of  the  capacity  of  producing  in 
the  five  years  a  volume  of  protoplasm  approximately  equal 
to  10,000  times  the  volume  of  the  earth.  This  power  of 
self-increase  must  be  taken  account  of  in  our  conception  of 
living  organisms,  and  the  resulting  abundance  of  life  must 
form  part  of  our  impressionist  picture  of  Animal  Nature. 
At  the  autumnal  climax  of  productivity  in  lakes,  there  may 
be  to  the  square  yard  7,000  millions  of  a  well-known  Dia- 
tom, Melosira  varians,  so  that  the  water  is  like  a  living 
soup. 

We  have  to  remember,  moreover,  the  obvious  but  notable 
fact  that  we  are  dealing  not  with  items  like  grains  of  sand, 
but  with  individuals,  each  itself  and  no  other.  Mendel  put 
an  end  to  the  phrase  ''  as  like  as  two  peas  ". 

Individual  organisms  differ  greatly  in  degree  of  complex- 
ity and  of  integration.  Many  an  Infusorian  has  an  intri- 
cate organisation  and  lives  a  by  no  means  monotonous  life, 
though  it  is  only  what  we  somewhat  fallaciously  call  ^'  a  single 
cell  ".  Hardly  any  larger  than  some  Infusorians  are  some  of 
the  Rotifers,  sometimes  with  about  1,000  cells;  a  minnow 
has  its  millions,  and  a  bird  its  millions  of  millions.  AMiat 
a  contrast  between  the  very  incipient  integration  of  a 
sponge,  the  intricate  division  of  labour  in  a  ^  Portuguese  Man 
of  War '  hesitating  between  colony  and  individual,  and  the 
compact  co-ordination  of  the  circumspect  wren.  As  a  recent 
student  of  the  subject,  Mr.  Julian  S.  Huxley  (1912),  puts 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       55 

it,  we  are  confronted  in  Nature  with  closed  independent  sys- 
tems with  harmonious  parts  and  with  capacity  for  continu- 
ance. Such  are  individuals.  ''  Though  the  closure  is  never 
complete,  the  independence  never  absolute,  the  harmony 
never  perfect,  yet  systems  and  tendency  alike  have  real  exist- 
ence.'' The  individual  is  Unity  in  Diversity — in  what  it  is 
and  in  what  it  does, — a  whole  whose  diverse  parts  all  work 
together,  ensuring  continuance.  When  it  transcends  the 
limits  of  its  substance,  Mr.  Huxley  says,  that  is  personality. 
But  in  addition  to  the  abundance  of  life — alike  of  individ- 
ualities and  of  individuals — there  is  the  quality  of  insur- 
gence.  Li\Tng  creatures  press  up  against  all  barriers ;  they 
fill  every  possible  niche  all  the  world  over;  they  show  that 
Nature  abhors  a  vacuum.  We  find  animals  among  the  snow 
on  Monte  Rosa  at  a  height  of  over  10,000  feet;  we  dredge 
them  from  the  floor  of  the  sea,  from  those  great  ^  deeps  '  of 
over  six  miles  where  Mount  Everest  would  be  much  more 
than  engulfed.  It  is  hard  to  say  what  difficulties  living 
creatures  may  not  conquer  or  circumvent.  You  may  find 
insects  in  hot  springs  in  which  you  cannot  keep  your  hand  im- 
mersed, or  Rotifers  and  other  small  fry  under  fifteen  feet 
of  ice  in  the  little  lakes  of  Antarctica;  you  find  a  Brine- 
Shrimp  and  two  or  three  other  animals  in  the  Great  Salt 
Lake;  you  find  a  fish  climbing  a  tree,  and  thoroughly  ter- 
restrial types  like  spiders  with  species  living  under  water; 
there  is,  as  Dr.  Shipley  has  shown,  a  bustle  of  life  on  the  dry 
twigs  of  the  heather.  When  we  consider  the  filling  of  every 
niche,  the  finding  of  homes  in  extraordinary  places,  the  mas- 
tery of  difficult  conditions,  the  plasticity  that  adjusts  to  out- 
of-the-way  exigencies,  the  circumvention  of  space  (as  in 
migration)  and  the  conquest  of  time  (as  in  hibernation), 
we  begin  to  get  an  impression  of  the  insurgence  of  life. 


56      THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 

We  see  life  persistent  and  intrusive — spreading  everywhere, 
insinuating  itself,  adapting  itself,  resisting  everything, 
defying  everything,  surviving  everything ! 

The  great  Sequoia  trees  may  be  taken  as  emblems  of  life's 
tenacity.  For  they  have  been  known  to  flourish  over  two 
thousand  years.  One  of  the  oldest  had  2,425  annual  rings 
when  it  was  killed,  and  must  have  begun  to  live  525  years 
before  the  Christian  era.  "  We  have,"  wrote  Prof.  W.  R. 
Dudley,  "  deep  in  their  annual  rings,  records  which  extend 
far  beyond  the  beginnings  of  Anglo-Saxon  peoples,  beyond 
even  the  earliest  struggles  for  liberty  and  democracy  among 
the  Greeks — records  of  forest  conflagrations,  of  the  vicis- 
situdes of  the  seasons,  of  periods  of  drought  and  periods  of 
abundant  and  favouring  rains."  In  our  conception  of  life 
we  must  not  forget  these  sublime  instances  of  its  power 
to  endure. 

§  5.     Struggle  and  Sifting. 

By  the  insurgence  of  life  we  mean  a  certain  quality  of 
'  push  '  or  aggressiveness  often  observable  both  in  plants  and 
animals.  It  is  an  outcome  of  a  native  self-assertiveness,  and 
it  is  a  factor  in  the  struggle  for  existence  as  much  as  a  con- 
sequence of  it.  More  metaphorically,  it  is  an  expression  of 
the  ^  will  to  live ',  or  of  the  spirit  of  adventure.  To  the 
conception  of  the  struggle  for  existence  we  shall  have  to 
give  careful  consideration  at  a  later  stage ;  meanwhile  we 
must  notice  that  the  phrase  leads  us  astray  if  it  is  taken 
literally  or  woodenly.  It  includes  every  form  of  the  clash 
between  individuals  and  their  environing  difficulties,  all  the 
novel  responses  that  individual  living  creatures  are  always 
making  to  the  pressure  of  limiting  conditions.  These  re- 
sponses may  take  the  form  of  intensified  competition,  even  of 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       57 

intensified  cannibalism;  but  they  have  often  taken  the  form, 
as  Darwin  emphasised,  of  some  experiment  in  co-operation 
and  socialisation,  of  some  new  departure  which  gives  the  next 
generation  a  better  start  in  life.  All  theory  apart,  our 
picture  of  animate  nature  is  fundamentally  out  of  perspec- 
tive unless  we  recognise  that  a  large  proportion  of  the  time 
and  energy  of  living  creatures,  whether  in  the  fighting  line 
or  safe  :^r  the  time  being  in  organised  entrenchments,  is 
devoted  to  securing  not  self-preservation,  but  the  welfare 
of  the  race.  ^N'ature,  as  Goethe  said,  is  continually  taking 
advantage  of  her  children's    '^  capacity    for    self-forgetful- 


ness  ". 


Whenever  the  circumstances  are  critical,  and  there  is  in- 
equality or  diversity  in  the  response  that  living  creatures 
make  to  their  environing  difficulties  and  limitations,  a  proc- 
ess of  sifting  begins  to  work,  the  process  of  discriminate 
elimination  familiarly  known  as  Natural  Selection.  This 
also  will  engage  our  attention  later,  but  in  the  meantime 
let  us  not  assume  that  the  conventional  statement  of  the 
process  tells  us  the  whole  truth.  Just  as  the  struggle  for 
existence  is  often  more  accurately  described  as  an  endeavour 
after  well-being,  so,  in  thinking  of  Nature's  sifting,  we  go 
astray  if  we  think  of  it  as  at  all  haphazard  (that  is  a  con- 
tradiction in  terms),  or  as  directed  only  to  self-preservation, 
or  as  being  necessarily  sanguinary,  or  as  a  process  in  which 
organisms  simply  remain  like  passive  branches  for  the  prun- 
ing-shears.  As  a  sagacious  naturalist  has  well  observed, 
though  somewhat  too  paradoxically,  it  is  not  so  much  that 
Nature  selects  the  organisms  fittest  to  her;  it  is  rather  that 
each  organism  selects  the  natural  conditions  fittest  to  itself. 


58      THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 

^  6.    A  System  of  Inter-related  Lives. 

The  hosts  of  living  organisms  are  not  random  creatures, 
they  can  be  classified  in  battalions  and  regiments.     Neither 
are  they  isolated  creatures,  for  every  thread  of  life  is  inter- 
twined with  others  in  a  complex  web.     This  is  one  of  the 
fundamental  biological  concepts — the  correlation  of  organ- 
isms in  the  w^b  of  life — and  it  is  as  characteristically  Dar- 
winian as  the  struggle  for  existence.     ISTo  creature  lives  or 
dies  to  itself;  there  is  no  insulation.     Long  nutritive  chains 
often  bind  a  series  of  organisms  together  in  the  very  funda- 
mental relation  that  one  kind  eats  the  other.     All  things  are 
in  flux,  there  is  a  ceaseless  circulation  of  matter;  all  flesh 
is  grass  and  all  fish  is  diatom;  and  so  the  stuff  of  the  world 
goes  round  from  one  incarnation  to  another.     One  organism 
gets  linked  on  to  others,   and  becomes  dependent  on  them 
for  the  continuance  of  its  race.     Flowers  and  insects  are  fit- 
ted to  one  another  as  hand  to  glove.     Cats  have  to  do  with 
the  plague  in  India  as  well  as  with  the  clover  crop  at  home. 
The  young  of  the  fresh-water  mussels  are  carried  about  for 
a    time    by    minnows,    and    the    young    of    the    fish    called 
the  bitterling  are  harboured  within  the  fresh-water  mussel. 
Squirrels  affect  the  cornfields  and  water  wagtails  the  sheep- 
folds.     In  short,  we  get  a  glimpse  of  Nature  as  a  vast  sys- 
tem of  inter-linked  lives — a  Systema  Naturae  in  a  new  sense 
— a  web  with  a  pattern  (see  Thomson,  1914,  1916).     With- 
out entering  upon  any  discussion  of  the  weaving  or  evolu- 
tion of  the  web  through  untold  ages,  let  us  take  the  realm 
of  organisms  as  it  is,  and  emphasise  the  fact  that  just  as 
there  is  a  correlation  of  organs  in  the  body,  so  there  is  a 
correlation  of  organisms  in  the  world  of  life.     When  we 
learn  something  of  the  intricate  give  and  take,  supply  and 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       59 

demand,  action  and  reaction  between  plants  and  animals, 
between  flowers  and  insects,  between  herbivores  and  carni- 
vores, and  between  other  conflicting  yet  correlated  interests, 
we  begin  to  get  a  glimpse  of  a  vast  self-regulating  organisa- 
tion. There  may  be  local  and  temporary  friction  and  dis- 
order ;  there  is  the  clash  of  fierce  competition  in  some  forms 
of  the  struggle  for  existence ;  but  the  larger  fact  is  the 
smooth  working  of  a  balanced  correlated  system. 

In  philosophical  reconstruction  we  must  surely  take  ac- 
count of  this  inter-relatedness  of  organisms.  Is  it  not  of 
interest  to  find  in  Animate  Nature,  as  in  mankind,  advance 
from  comparatively  isolated  units  towards  systematisation 
and  solidarity?  The  multitudinous  unique  threads  of  life 
become  more  and  more  interwoven;  the  warp  and  the  woof 
of  the  web  are  hunger  and  love ;  we  get  glimpses  of  a  chang- 
ing pattern  becoming  ever  finer.  The  web  seems  to  become 
increasingly  coherent,  though  man  often  rends  the  fabric 
ruthlessly. 

Another  point  of  importance,  demanding  subsequent 
study,  is  that  the  intricacy  of  the  web  of  life  becomes  in  it- 
self of  great  significance  in  evolution.  It  is  its  subtlety  that 
gives  point  and  possibility  of  survival  to  minute  variations. 
The  very  fact  of  complex  interaction  and  systematisation 
tends  to  diminish  fortuity  and  to  make  towards  definite 
progression.  The  correlation  of  organisms  which  is  a  prod- 
uct of  evolution  becomes  in  turn  a  directive  factor. 

§  7.    The  Prevalence  of  Adaptations. 

The  balance  demonstrable  on  a  large  scale  holds  through- 
out; every  higher  organism  is  a  complex  bundle  of  adap- 
tations. It  is  suited  to  its  surroundings,  to  its  food,  to  its 
own  weight,  to  its  way  of  moving,  to  the  regularly  recurrent 


60       THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 

exigencies  of  the  seasons,  and  to  recurrent  risks  of  injury. 
It  may  be  subtly  adapted  to  its  mate,  in  exquisite  symbiosis 
to  its  offspring,  to  its  ante-natal  life,  and  to  dying  at  the 
proper  time !  Wherever  you  tap  organic  Nature,  Romanes 
said,  it  seems  to  flow  with  purpose.  The  theory  of  this  will 
be  discussed  later  on,  but  in  the  meantime  without  pressing 
the  word  purpose — let  us  emphasise  the  fact  that  almost  all 
living  creatures  are  definitely  and  detailedly  fit  for  the 
particular  conditions  of  their  life.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  we  live  in  a  world  of  fitnesses,  that  we  need  to  search 
to  find  misfits.  When  we  think  we  have  found  them,  we 
have  generally  made  a  mistake.  This  adaptiveness  is  an- 
other large  fact  of  life,  which,  whatever  be  the  scientific 
theory  of  it,  must  be  incorporated  in  a  concrete  Philosophy 
of  Nature.     Let  us  take  a  few  illustrations. 

The  structure  of  a  long  bone  in  a  mammal  is  architectur- 
ally adapted  to  give  the  utmost  firmness  with  the  minimum 
expenditure  of  material;  the  pollen-basket  on  the  hind-legs 
of  worker-bees  is  adapted  in  detail  to  carrying  the  nutritive 
pollen,  the  golden,  or  otherwise  coloured,  germinal  dust;  the 
leaf  of  the  Venus  fly-trap  or  of  the  sundew  is  adapted  with 
no  little  subtlety  to  catching  insects;  the  parts  of  flowers 
are  often  adapted  to  attract  insect-visitors  and  to  make  the 
most  of  them  when  they  come ;  the  colours  and  patterns 
of  leaf-insects  are  adapted  to  harmonise  with  the  foliage 
on  which  they  settle;  the  heart  of  the  ptarmigan  is  adapted 
to  the  strain  of  high  altitudes,  and  the  shoes  which  the 
ruffed  grouse  puts  on  in  winter  are  adapted  for  treading 
on  the  lightly  compacted  snow;  the  mongoose  is  chemically 
adapted  to  resist  snake  poison;  the  tendrils  of  the  mer- 
maid's purse  are  non-living  products  of  the  living  skate 
physically  adapted  to  fasten  the  egg  to  seaweed ;  the  flatfish 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       61 

is  adapted  to  put  on  a  garment  of  invisibility  against  cer- 
tain backgrounds;  the  hedgehog  is  adapted  to  meet  the  win- 
ter by  hibernation;  the  peacock  is  adapted  to  captivate  the 
peahen;  the  mother  mammal  is  delicately  adapted  for  the 
prolonged  ante-natal  life  of  the  offspring;  and  the  so-called 
^  egg-tooth  '  at  the  end  of  a  young  bird's  bill  is  adapted  to 
the  single  operation  of  breaking  the  egg-shell — and  so  on 
throughout  the  whole  animal  kingdom,  for  the  point  of  this 
random  list  is  but  to  remind  us  that  (with  a  few  very  inter- 
esting exceptions)  every  detail  of  structure  and  function 
may  be  regarded  as  adaptive.  As  the  late  Professor  Weis- 
mann  used  to  say,  '^  When  you  take  away  all  the  adapta- 
tions from  a  whale,  there  is  not  much  left."  To  illustrate 
subtlety,  however,  let  us  pause  for  a  moment  over  a  partic- 
ular case. 

The  illustration  we  select  concerns  the  parental  care  in 
a  remarkable  'New  Guinea  fish  called  Kurtus.  Each  egg 
has  an  envelope  of  over  a  hundred  twisted  threads,  coiled 
like  the  rubber  filaments  in  a  cored  golf-ball.  When  the 
eggs  are  laid  the  filaments  unwind  automatically  and  unite 
in  strings,  which  combine  into  a  cylindrical  cord.  Thus  the 
eggs  are  bound  together,  forming  a  tw^in  cluster  like  a 
double  bunch  of  onions  such  as  we  see  the  Breton  boys  carry- 
ing in  the  streets.  But  what  is  the  bunch  to  be  fastened  to  ? 
The  answer  is  almost  incredible.  At  the  breeding  season, 
Prof.  Max  Weber  tells  us,  a  bony  process  on  the  top  of  the 
skull  of  the  male  fish  grows  forwards  and  downwards  like 
a  bent  little  finger,  and  forms  eventually  a  ring  or  '  eye  '. 
But  before  the  hook  becomes  an  eye  the  cord  of  the  double 
bunch  of  eggs  is  somehow  passed  into  the  loop  and  attached, 
and  the  male  fish  goes  about  with  his  prospective  family 
fastened  to  the  top  of  his  head.     The  female  shows  no  trace 


62 


THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 


of  the  hookud  process  of  bone,  so  that  we  have  an  interest- 
ing, almost  startling  coincidence,  of  an  adaptation  which 
makes  the  eggs  into  a  double  bunch  and  an  adaptation  which 
fixes  them  to  the  male's  head. 

This  is  but  a  striking  instance  of  what  obtains  through- 
out Animate  A^ature — Adaptation  upon  Adaptation.  And, 
as  we  shall  afterwards  see,  the  working  out  of  a  more  or 
less  adequate  Natural  Selection  account  of  how  these  adap- 
tations have  come  to  be  does  not  lessen  the  wonder  of 
the  variability  that  supplies  the  raw  material,  or  the  he- 
reditary relation  which  conserves  each  gain.  The  magical- 
ness  has  gone ;  the  rationality  shines  out  more  brightly  than 
ever. 

§  8.     The  Pervasiveness  of  Beauty. 

Another  undeniable  impression  is  that  there  is  beauty 
everywhere.  Apart  from  disease,  which  is  almost  unknown 
in  wild  Nature,  apart  from  unfinished  organisms  which 
Nature  hides  away — often  so  carefully,  apart  from  various 
domesticated  animals  and  cultivated  plants  which  bear  too 
flagrantly  the  marks  of  man's  artistically  clumsy,  though 
scientifically  clever,  fingers,  all  organisms  are  artistic  bar- 
monies,  j)^6^sing  to  the  unprejudiced  eye,  evoking  the 
aesthetic  emotion,  especially  when  seen  in  their  natural  set- 
ting. And  not  only  the  organisms  themselves,  but  the  works 
of  their  hands  are  beautiful — the  nest,  and  the  web,  and 
the  honeycomb,  and  the  coral  reef,  and  the  bower-bird's 
bower.  Nature  has  given  her  verdict  in  favour  of  beauty — 
the  reward  of  survival. 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       63 

§  9.    The  Other  Side  of  the  Picture. 

It  may  be  said,  perhaps,  that  we  have  given  a  one-sided 
picture — that  Animate  Mature  is  a  vast  gladiatorial  show 
reeking  with  blood,  that  every  hedgerow  is  crowded  with 
cruelty,  that  parasitism  is  rife,  that  there  is  much  ugliness 
and  devilry,  that  the  exuberant  abundance  of  life  is  shad- 
owed by  the  obtrusive  abundance  of  death,  and  that  there 
are  numerous  dis-harmonies  or  imperfect  adaptations. 
"  Throughout  the  organic  world,"  Professor  Hobhouse  says, 
"  harmony  is  shot  through  with  discord."  It  would  be 
utterly  unscientific  to  disregard  these  shadows,  and  we  shall 
consider  them  at  later  stages  in  our  argument  Anticipat- 
ing that  discussion,  we  venture  to  say  that  many  of  the 
shadows  are  of  man's  making,  that  many  are  due  to  mis- 
understanding, and  that  those  that  are  real  do  not  seriously 
affect  the  general  truth  of  our  impressionist  picture  of  Ani- 
mate Nature,  of  which  the  prominent  features  are : — the 
multitude  of  individualities  in  an  orderly  Systema  Naturae; 
the  abundance  and  insurgence  of  life;  the  ceaseless  struggle 
and  endeavour,  which  makes  for  self-preservation,  self- 
assertion,  and  self-realisation,  but  also  for  the  welfare  of  the 
race;  the  sifting  and  singling  that  works  towards  both  these 
ends ;  the  extent  to  which  every  creature  is  a  bundle  of 
adaptations;  and  the  beauty  that  is  everywhere. 

§  10.    Resemblances  between  the  Realm  of  Organisms  and 

the  Domain  of  the  Inorganic. 

With  our  impressionist  picture  of  the  realm  of  organisms 
clearly  in  view,  let  us  now  briefly  compare  it  with  what 
is  true  of  the  domain  of  the  organic.  We  must  avoid  two 
extremes.     On  the  one  hand,  there  is  the  error  of  exaggerat- 


64      THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 

ing  the  differences  so  that  an  impression  of  utter  discontinu- 
ity is  created.  This  is  undoubtedly  false,  for  organisms 
have,  as  material  systems,  an  inorganic  aspect.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  is  the  error  of  exaggerating  the  resemblances, 
so  that  we  lose  hold  of  what  is  distinctive  in  each.  Let  us 
first  notice  some  of  the  resemblances. 

As  among  plants  and  animals,  so  among  lifeless  things 
there  is  extraordinary  heterogeneity.  There  are  over  eighty 
different  kinds  of  elements ;  the  number  of  different  minerals 
is  legion ;  the  multitude  of  the  stars  is  untold.  But,  just 
as  there  is  in  the  realm  of  organisms  the  common  denom- 
inator protoplasm  (or  shall  we  say  animate  protoplasm?), 
so  there  is  in  the  inorganic  domain  an  abstract  common 
denominator  with  a  few  terms,  such  as  matter  in  motion 
and  ether  under  strain,  which  are  not  reducible  to  any- 
thing simpler.  The  living  and  the  not-living  worlds  agree 
in  showing  diversity  in  unity,  and  the  big  generalisations 
of  Biology  such  as  omne  vivum  e  vivo,  the  hereditary  rela- 
tion, the  persistence  of  the  organism  in  spite  of  ceaseless 
change,  and  so  on,  may  be  compared  to  the  great  chemico- 
physical  generalisations  of  the  persistence  of  mass,  of  momen- 
tum, of  energy. 

What  the  physical  irreducibles  are  is  a  question  beyond 
our  scope,  all  that  we  require  for  our  argument  is  the  agree- 
ment among  physicists  that  there  are  but  a  few  fundamental 
concepts.  Thus  Sir  Oliver  Lodge  declared  in  1913:  "Mat- 
ter in  motion,  Ether  under  strain,  constitute  the  fundamental 
concrete  things  we  have  to  do  with  in  physics.  The  first 
pair  represent  kinetic  energy;  the  second,  potential  energy; 
and  all  the  activities  of  the  material  universe  are  represented 
by  alternations  from  one  of  these  forms  to  the  other  '^  (1913, 
p.  35).     In  terms  of  a  few  fundamental  concepts,  then,  it 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       65 

is  possible  to  formulate  a  very  large  part  at  any  rate  of 
what  is  observed  in  the  inorganic  domain.  ^Yhether  they 
exhaust  the  reality  of  that  domain  is  quite  another  ques- 
tion. 

In  both  worlds  we  get  the  impression  of  order  and  uni- 
formity. We  recognise  it,  for  instance,  in  the  frequent  in- 
exorableness  of  the  hereditary  relation  between  successive 
generations;  we  are  even  more  familiar  with  it  in  the 
domain  of  the  inorganic.  There  do  not  seem  to  be  many 
big  collisions  in  the  heavens.  Everything  works  so  steadily 
that  the  return  of  a  comet  can  be  predicted  to  a  night,  and 
the  occurrence  of  an  eclipse  to  an  hour.  The  weather  may 
be  changeable,  but  no  one  supposes  that  it  is  disorderly.  It 
is  not  a  multiverse  that  we  live  in,  but  a  cosmos.  In 
his  famous  Discourse  on  Molecules  (1873),  Clerk-Maxwell 
spoke  of  the  verification  of  the  postulate  of  stability  in  the 
properties  of  things.  Unthinkably  distant  worlds  are  built 
up  of  molecules  of  the  same  kind  as  those  which  we  find  on 
the  earth.  A  molecule  of  hydrogen,  for  instance,  whether 
in  our  laboratories,  or  in  Sirius  or  in  Arcturus,  executes 
its  vibrations  in  precisely  the  same  time.  The  furniture 
of  the  earth  and  of  the  heavens  may  be  changed,  but  the 
properties  of  its  constituents  remain.  '^  Though  in  the  course 
of  ages  catastrophes  have  occurred  and  may  yet  occur 
in  the  heavens,  though  ancient  systems  may  be  dissolved 
and  new  systems  evolved  out  of  their  ruins,  the  molecules 
out  of  which  these  systems  are  built — the  foundation-stones 
of  the  material  universe — remain  unbroken  and  unworn. 
They  continue  this  day  as  they  were  created — perfect  in 
number  arid  measure  and  weight.  ..."  For  ^' molecules '' 
a  modern  chemist  would  read  ^  atoms  \  and  even  then  he 
would  remind  us  of  the  apparent  disintegration  of  the  atom 


66      THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 

in  radio-active  substances.  But  in  the  main  what  Clerk- 
Maxwell  said  remains  true.  It  is  evident  that  the  fulcrum 
of  the  inorganic  on  which  organisms  rest  their  lever  is  one 
of  reliable  steadiness. 

Another  point  of  resemblance  or  analogy  is  that  the 
eighty  or  so  elements  may  well  be  compared  to  species,  or 
better  to  types  of  organisms.  We  do  not  know  very  well 
what  being  an  element  means,  and  we  do  not  know  very 
well  what  being  a  species  means,  but  we  do  know  that  in 
elements  and  species  alike  we  have  to  do  with  uniqueness 
or  specificity.  One  is  not  forgetting,  of  course,  what  has 
been  done  in  the  way  of  experimental  transformism  alike 
with  organic  species  and  chemical  elements,  but,  taking 
the  world  as  it  is,  the  characteristic  feature,  whether  of 
species  or  elements,  is  the  persistence  of  each  clear-cut  entity 
on  its  own  line  of  being. 

As  to  the  inter-relatedness  in  the  realm  of  organisms,  it 
has  its  analogue  in  any  systematisation  that  there  is  in  the 
inorganic  domain.  The  approximation  to  individuality  il- 
lustrated in  the  earth  or  in  the  solar  system  is  associated 
with  a  certain  amount  of  correlation  between  its  parts.  The 
circulation  of  matter  in  the  organic  realm  has  its  counter- 
part in  the  inorganic.  The  persistence  of  matter  and  the 
consen^ation  of  energy  hold  true,  so  far  as  we  know,  in  both. 

As  regards  beauty,  it  varies  greatly  in  significance,  but 
there  is  no  limit  to  its  range.  In  its  way  the  grain  of  sand 
is  as  perfect  as  the  egg  of  the  wren.  There  is  often  an  in- 
describably fine  finish  about  the  inorganic  natural  product, 
as  we  see  in  agates  and  crystals,  and  there  is  a  haunting 
beauty  in  things  great  and  small,  in  the  mountain  and  in 
the  pebble,  that  makes  us  thoughtful  as  well  as  joyous.  We 
venture  to  say,  however,  that  in  the  inorganic  domain  com- 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       67 

binations  of  lines  and  colours  that  are  not  beautiful  are  not 
uncommon^  whereas  in  the  organic  realm  the  non-beautiful 
is  extremely  rare,  the  reason  being  that  beauty  is  correlated 
with  individuality. 

If  we  assume  the  external  independence  of  what  we  call 
matter  and  regard  it  as  the  building-stone  of  the  world, 
those  of  us  who  are  not  chemists  and  physicists  must  make 
an  effort  to  rid  ourselves  of  any  picture  of  it  as  gross  and 
inert.  How  much  matter  is  invisible  like  the  air !  How 
much  is  transparent  like  the  water!  How  tenuous  is  the 
film  of  the  soap-bubble !  How  much  is  ever  passing  from 
phase  to  phase  like  an  elusive  genie !  Those  who  are  in- 
clined to  think  meanly  of  matter  should  look  again  at  its 
magnificence  in  the  starry  heavens  and  at  its  exquisiteness 
in  the  miniature  architecture  of  snow-crystals.  We  must  also 
bear  in  mind  how  finely  it  lends  itself  to  Lifers  purposes — 
the  fashioning  of  a  feather,  the  sculpturing  of  a  shell,  the 
casting  within  the  bud  of  those  blue  bells  which  ring  every 
day  by  the  wayside. 

But  when  we  pass  from  ordinary  sight  to  scientific  vision, 
how  subtle  and  ethereal  matter  becomes !  What  pictures 
modern  physics  gives  us  of  a  restless  activity  suggestive  of 
life! 

Matter  is  thought  of  as  consisting  of  unit  particles  or 
molecules,  which  move  freely  with  great  velocity  in  gases, 
and  these  molecules  are  thought  of  as  consisting  of  several 
atoms  which  exist  in  specific  and  constant  configurations. 
Until  1896  atoms  were  regarded  as  the  ultimate  building- 
stones'  of  the  material  universe,  but  it  has  since  been  sug- 
gested that  an  integration  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  elec- 
trons might  form  an  atom  or  form  a  revolving  halo  around 
an  atom.     The  study  of  radium  has  led  to  the  view  that  the 


68      THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 

atom  is  not  the  natural  limit  of  the  subdivision  of  matter, 
that  the  stream  of  energy  poured  forth  by  radium  is  due  to 
a  transmutation  of  the  position  of  parts  constituting  the 
atom, — the  radium  slowly  changing  into  something  else — 
helium,   and  eventually  lead. 

The  individual  molecules  of  matter  in  a  gaseous  state 
are  believed  to  move  v^ith  great  velocity,  incessantly  collid- 
ing with  one  another  and  rebounding,  making  impacts  on 
the  walls  of  the  vessel  that  contains  them,  or  spreading 
themselves  through  any  space  to  which  there  is  free  access. 
.  .  .  AVe  need  not  try  to  follow  what  is  beyond  our  per- 
sonal scope,  but  to  illustrate  the  subtlety  of  modern  con- 
ceptions of  matter — which  is  all  that  concerns  us  at  pres- 
ent— let  us  take  a  few  sentences  from  Professor  Soddy's 
luminous  Matter  and  Energy: — 

"  Every  cubic  centimetre  of  any  gas,  measured  under 
standard  conditions  (0°  C.  and  760  millimetres  baromet- 
ric pressure),  contains  twenty-seven  million  million  mil- 
lion molecules.  The  weight  of  the  single  molecule  of  hydro- 
gen is  about  three  million-million-million-millionths  of  a 
gram,  and  its  velocity  at  0°  C.  is  rather  more  than  a  mile 
a  second.  The  hydrogen  molecule  is,  it  is  true,  the  smallest 
and  simplest  molecule  of  matter  known,  but  it  is  a  large  and 
sluggishly  moving  individual  compared  with  another  known 
particle,  the  electron  or  atom  of  negative  electricity " 
(Matter  and  Energy,  p.  82). 

When  the  temperature  of  a  gas  is  lowered  the  molecules 
come  nearer  one  another,  till  their  mutual  tendency  to  draw 
together  restricts  their  wandering  movements,  and  a  liquid 
is  formed.  Inside  the  surface  skin  of  the  liquid  the  molecules 
move  very  rapidly,  and  collide  so  frequently  that  they  fol- 
low very  zigzag  paths,  being  perpetually  turned  back  the 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       69 

way  they  came.  It  is  no  dance  of  molecules,  but  a  chaotic 
jostling.  Every  drop  of  liquid  is  in  a  state  of  commotion 
and  turmoil  indescribable  (ibid.,  p.  89).  Of  solids  relatively 
little  is  known,  but  in  a  crystalline  solid  where  we  have 
to  deal  with  fixed  architecture  there  can  be  no  translatory 
motion.  "  But  vibratory  motion  in  constrained  paths  there 
must  be  among  the  molecules  of  a  solid,  increasing  with 
the  temperature  until  the  molecules  drag  their  anchors,  as 
it  were,  and  the  substance  melts ''  (ibid.,  p.  94). 

Thus  the  concept  of  matter  leads  us  to  a  very  ethereal 
picture.     What  is  to  be  said  of  energy?     It  is  the  power  of 
doing  work,  and  may  be  actual  or  potential,  in  motion  or  in 
position.     But  except  when  it  changes,  its  existence  can  only 
be  inferred.     Professor  Soddy  writes:  "The  Apostle  Paul 
had  no  thought  of  physical  things  in  his  mind  when  he  used 
the  words,  ^  The  things  which  are  seen  are  temporal,  but  the 
things  which  are  not  seen  are  eternal.'     But  the  words  can 
be  applied  with  profit  to  illustrate,  perhaps  more  forcibly 
than  any  other  single  sentence,  the  essential  nature  of  energy. 
It  is  only  the  temporary  changes  in  the  form  and  relative 
amount  of  energy  which  are  manifest.     So  long  as  energy 
neither  changes  in  amount  nor  in  position,  it  belongs  to  the 
unseen  and  eternal.     No  direct  evidence  of  its  existence  can 
be  obtained.''    Yet  we  are  never  in  doubt  as  to  its  reality,  for 
it  is  always  conserved.     And  besides  Matter  and  Energy 
there  is  the  Ether  which  Sir  Oliver  Lodge  describes  as  "  the 
universal  connecting  medium  which  binds  the  universe  to- 
gether, and  makes  it  a  coherent  whole  instead  of  a  chaotic 
collection  of  independent  isolated  fragments.     It  is  the  ve- 
hicle of  transmission  of  all  manner  of  force,  from  gravita- 
tion down  to  cohesion  and  chemical  affinity;  it  is  therefore 
the    storehouse    of    potential    energy.     ...    It    does    not 


70      THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 

move  in  the  sense  of  locomotion,  though  it  is  probably  in 
a  violent  state  of  rotational  or  turbulent  motion  in  its  small- 
est parts;  and  to  that  motion  its  exceeding  rigidity  is 
due."  Its  density  must  be  far  greater  than  that  of  any  form 
of  matter,  ^'  yet  matter  moves  through  it  with  perfect  free- 
dom, without  any  friction  or  viscosity  "  (1913,  p.  33). 

The  ether,  says  Sir  J.  J.  Thomson,  ^'  is  not  a  fantastic 
creation  of  the  speculative  philosopher ;  it  is  as  essential  to 
us  as  the  air  we  breathe.  .  .  .  The  study  of  this  all- 
pervading  substance  is  perhaps  the  most  fascinating  and  im- 
portant duty  of  the  physicist."  And  Sir  Oliver  Lodge  also 
speaks  of  the  fascination  of  this  portentous  entity,  material 
but  no  matter,  ''  the  great  engine  of  continuity  " : — ''  Its 
curiously  elusive  and  intangible  character,  combined  with 
its  universal  and  unifying  permeance,  its  apparently  infinite 
extent,  its  definite  and  perfect  properties,  make  the  ether  the 
most  fundamental  ingredient  in  the  material  cosmos." 

We  have  delayed  over  these  elementary  ideas  because  those 
who  are  convinced  of  the  apartness  of  living  creatures  are  apt 
to  fail  in  appreciation  of  the  inorganic  domain.  Even  the 
use  of  the  word  ^  inert '  betrays  either  prejudice  or  igno- 
rance,  both   probably   unconscious. 

Professor  Enriques  rightly  objects  to  the  false  antithesis 
involved  in  opposing  the  spontaneity  and  change  of  every- 
thing that  lives  to  the  inertia  and  immutability  of  matter. 
He  uses  ''  spontaneity  "  here  to  mean  "  activity  "  or  ''  pos- 
sibility of  changing  through  internal  conditions,"  and  rejects 
the  idea  of  ''  an  absolutely  passive  matter  ".  '^  The  view 
seems  far  more  adequate,"  he  says,  "  which  holds  that  every- 
thing around  us  is  living  and  active,  save  for  a  difference 
in  degree  in  the  intensity  or  in  the  rapidity  of  the  changes, 
and  in  the  relative  importance  of  the  internal  and  external 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       71 

factoids  for  the  course  of  the  phenomena  "  (Enriques,  1914, 
p.  368).  It  is  useful,  however,  to  keep  a  term  like  ^'  living  " 
for  organisms  only. 

§  11.    Contrasts  between  the  Reahn  of  Organisms  and  the 

Domain  of  the  Inorganic. 

Let  us  turn  from  the  resemblances  to  the  contrasts  between 
the  realm  of  organisms  and  the  domain  of  the  inorganic. 

The  first  great  contrast  is  that  there  are  no  true  individuals 
in  the  domain  of  the  inorganic,  though  there  is  a  great  di- 
versity of  quality.  A  crystal  approaches  some  of  the  criteria 
of  being  an  individual — it  has  definiteness  of  form,  coher- 
ence, a  capacity  for  a  sort  of  growth  and  repair ;  but  a  crystal 
is  homogeneous,  not  made  up  of  inter-dependent  parts  work- 
ing together  to  secure  continuance  either  of  itself  or  of  its 
kind.  The  crystal's  regularity  is  not  functional ;  it  is  per- 
haps the  visible  expression  of  the  molecular  structure.  Sim- 
ilarly, the  solar  system  makes  some  approach  to  being  an  in- 
dividual, having  independence  and  unity  in  diversity,  but 
it  can  hardly  be  said  that  the  solar  system  is  an  agent,  or 
that  its  working  is  directed  towards  its  own  continuance. 

There  are  few  phenomena  in  the  domain  of  the  inorganic 
which  can  be  spoken  of  as  propagative,  though  one  may 
think  of  the  origin  of  a  double  star,  or  of  the  earth  giving 
birth  to  the  moon,  or  of  the  multiplication  of  crystals.  This 
is  in  marked  contrast  with  the  abundant  multiplication 
characteristic  of  organisms. 

And  while  the  volcano  is  insurgent  enough  in  a  sense,  and 
the  breakers  seem  furious  in  their  assaults  on  the  clifi*?, 
we  know  that  there  is  no  freedom  of  action,  that  everything 
is  without  alternative. 

There  seems  no  doubt  as  to  the  general  fact  that  the  solar 


72      THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 

system  developed  from  a  much  less  differentiated,  much 
more  diffuse,  condition;  it  is  certain  that  our  earth  has 
passed  through  various  stages  of  development,  and  has  be- 
come increasingly  differentiated  in  its  pattern  and  features; 
and  many  facts  point  to  the  occasional  origin  of  new  chemical 
collocations  in  Nature;  but  there  is  nothing  in  the  domain 
of  the  inorganic  which  can  be  compared  with  any  precision 
to  organic  evolution  and  there  is  nothing  that  can  be  com- 
pared to  the  struggle  for  existence.  We  are  not  justified  in 
saying  that  there  may  not  have  been  elimination  of  unstable 
collocations  which  could  not  last  and  had  to  be  scrapped,  but 
this  bears  at  most  a  superficial  resemblance  to  the  answering 
back  to  environing  limitations  and  difficulties  which  is 
the  essential  feature  of  the  organismal  struggle  for  existence. 
There  is  neither  endeavour  nor  selection  in  the  inorganic 
domain,  and  till  organisms  emerged  there  was  little  or  no 
power  of  learning  in  the  school  of  time. 

For  plain  people  it  was  a  very  useful  classification  that 
Samuel  Butler  suggested:  Living  Creatures,  Machines,  and 
Things-in-General.  Machines  are  inorganic  material  sys- 
tems, but  they  must  be  kept  quite  by  themselves  in  any  dis- 
cussion like  this,  for  they  are  collocations  put  together  by 
man  with  a  definite  intention.  They  are  purposive  construc- 
tions, and  they  are  the  only  non-living  things  of  which  this 
can  be  said.  A  river  often  cuts  its  way  very  effectively, 
but  we  are  romancing  if  we  speak  of  its  purpose.  Its  bed 
is  not  adapted  to  it,  as  a  flower  to  its  insect  visitor.  The 
concepts  of  adaptation  and  purposiveness  do  not  apply  in 
the  inorganic  world,  where  there  are  no  alternatives. 

It  seems  that  the  domain  of  the  inorganic  is  con- 
trasted with  the  realm  of  organisms  by  the  absence  of  iu' 
dividuality,   reproductivity,   freedom   of   action,   endeavour, 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       73 

and  purposiveness.  It  is  a  domain  of  mechanically  neces- 
sitated sequences  without  alternatives  and  of  uniformities 
without  exceptions.  In  all  probability  this  quality  of  uni- 
formity has  been  a  quite  indispensable  basis  for  the  super- 
structure of  life,  affording  stability  for  the  experiments  and 
endeavours  that  have  doubtless  been  characteristic  of  organ- 
isms from  the  first. 

§  12.    The  Suitability  of  the  Inorganic  to  he  the  Basis  and 

Environment  of  the  Organic, 

We  wish  in  conclusion  to  allude  to  the  very  interesting 
fact — which  will  demand  further  attention  later  on — that 
the  not-living  earth  exhibits  many  remarkable  fitnesses  to 
be  the  home  of  life.  Living  means  trafficking  with  the  en- 
vironment ;  to  do  this  effectively  organisms  must  be  complex 
and  yet  coherent,  plastic  and  yet  durable,  and  they  were 
able  to  gain  these  qualities  because  of  the  fundamental  prop- 
erties of  the  primary  constituents  of  the  inanimate  environ- 
ment. The  properties  of  Water  and  Carbon  dioxide,  the 
tendency  some  forms  of  matter  have  to  complexify,  the  prop- 
erties of  the  colloid  state,  the  character  of  the  sea  as  a 
medium,  these  and  other  inorganic  data  are,  as  Prof.  L.  J. 
Henderson  (1913,  1917)  has  shown  in  detail,  extraordina- 
rily well  suited  to  be  pre-conditions  of  organisms.  We  must, 
of  course,  avoid  arguing  in  a  circle,  for  that  the  earth  should 
be  '  friendly '  to  living  creatures  is  not  surprising,  since 
in  their  physical  nature  they  are  bone  of  her  bone  and  flesh 
of  her  flesh — her  very  children.  Yet  when  we  give  full 
consideration  to  the  fact  that  living  creatures  as  material 
systems  are  in  no  wise  foreign  to  the  earth,  but  are  in  drop 
and  subtle  ways  congruent  and  solidary  with  it,  perhaps  we 
shall  not  be  inclined  to  brush  aside  hurriedly  the  suggestion 


74      THE  REALM  OF  ORGANISMS  CONTRASTED 

that  the  domain  of  the  inorganic  is  as  it  is  for  a  purpose.    At 
present  we  leave  this  as  a  pious  anticipation. 


SUMMAEY. 

The  world  without  is  conveniently  divided  into  the  realm  of 
organisms  and  the  domain  of  the  inorganic,  which  stand  in  close 
inter-relation  and  sharp  contrast.  In  the  domain  of  the  inorganic — 
from  solar  system  to  snow  crystal,  from  the  hills  and  the  sea  to 
dust  and  dew-drops — we  are  impressed — by  (a)  the  rich  concrete 
fulness  of  different  kinds  of  things  and  events,  which,  nevertheless, 
can  be  summed  up,  for  most  purposes,  in  terms  of  a  few  funda- 
mental concepts,  such  as  matter  and  motion;  (b)  the  orderly  uni- 
formity that  pei-vades  it;  and  (c)  the  restless  and  subtle  activity 
that  appears  to  obtain  throughout. 

A  study  of  the  realm  of  organisms  discloses  a  multitude  of  in- 
dividualities and  j^et  an  orderly  systema  naturae.  There  is  an  em- 
barrassment of  different  kinds — 25,000  named  Vertebrates,  ten  times 
as  many  named  backboneless  animals,  and  about  as  many  plants, 
yet  a  rational  classification  is  possible. 

A  second  impression  is  of  the  abundance  and  insurgence  of  life. 
Most  of  its  streams  tend  to  overflow  their  banks.  Many  species 
are  represented  by  numberless  individuals.  There  is  also  the  quality 
of  insurgence,  for  we  see  life  intrusive  everywhere,  pressing  up 
against  limitations,  circumventing  or  overcoming  difficulties — hke 
a  strong  will. 

Another  impression  is  of  ceaseless  struggle  and  endeavour  on  the 
one  hand,  ceaseless  selection  or  sifting  on  the  other.  Living  crea- 
tures react  in  manifold  ways  to  environing  limitations  and  difficul- 
ties, and  in  the  clash  that  ensues  there  is  often  discriminate  elimina- 
tion. 

The  inter-relatedness  of  organisms  is  another  fundamental  fact. 
Animate  nature  is  a  vast  system  of  interlinked  lives,  a  web  with 
a  pattern.  As  in  mankind,  there  is  progress  towards  systematisa- 
tion  and  solidarity,  and  the  correlation  of  organisms  which  is  a 
product  of  evolution  becomes  in  turn  a  directive  factor. 

Another  fundamental  impression  is  that  of  fitnesses.  Every 
higher  organism  is  a  complex  bundle  of  adaptations.  It  is  suited 
to  its  inanimate  surroundings,  to  its  food,  it  may  be  to  other  crea- 
tures, to  its  own  weight,  to  its  movements;  it  may  be  to  a  mate 


WITH  THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  INORGANIC       75 

and  to  offspring;  to  regularly  recurrent  times  and  seasons  and  risks 
of  injury;  to  its  ante-natal  life  and  to  dying  at  the  proper  time! 

If  we  are  to  consider  Animate  Nature  in  its  totality  we  must  not 
overlook  the  practically  universal  pervasiveness  of  beauty  of  form 
and  colour. 

It  may  be  said  that  this  impressionist  picture  of  Animate  Nature 
is  one-sided,  that  it  ignores  the  redness  of  tooth  and  claw,  the 
cruelty,  the  ugliness,  the  parasitism,  the  obtrusively  enormous  mortal- 
ity, and  the  mis-adaptations.  Much  of  this  objection  is  due  to 
misunderstanding;  the  admittedly  great  difficulties  that  remain  will 
be  discussed  in  Lecture  XVIII. 

Comparing  the  realm  of  organisms  with  the  domain  of  the  in- 
organic, we  must  avoid  the  error  of  exaggerating  the  differences 
(so  that  an  impression  of  discontinuity  is  created)  and  the  error 
of  merging  the  two  (thus  missing  what  is  distinctive  in  each). 
In  the  domain  of  the  inorganic  there  is  little  individuality  (though 
much  difference  of  quabty),  no  apparent  freedom  of  action,  no 
endeavour,  no  purposiveness,  no  learning  in  the  school  of  time. 
But  its  uniformity  has  been  a  probably  indispensable  fulcrum  for 
the  lever  of  will.  It  should  be  noted  too  that  the  old  view  of  inert 
matter  has  given  place  to  a  dynamic  conception  of  extraordinary 
subtlety. 


LECTURE  III. 
THE  CEITEKIA  OF  LIVINGl^ESS. 


LECTUEE  III. 
THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS. 

§  1.  Living  and  Not-living.  §  2.  The  Essential  Characteristics  of 
Living  Organisms.  §  3.  Persistence  of  a  Complex  Specific 
Metabolism  and  of  a  Corresponding  Specific  Organisation.  §  4. 
The  Capacity  of  Growth,  Reproduction,  and  Development. 
§  5.  Effective  Behaviour,  Registration  of  Experience,  and 
Variability. 

§  1.    Living  and  Not-living. 

If  we  are  to  reach  a  coherent  view  of  Nature,  such  as 
could  be  included  in  a  philosophy,  we  must  arrive  at  some 
discernment  of  the  characteristics  which  mark  off  living 
organisms  from  their  not-living  surroundings.  In  the  pres- 
ent state  of  science  a  definition  of  the  organism  cannot  be 
more  than  tentative,  but  it  must  be  continually  attempted. 

When  we  pass  from  watching  a  flowing  stream  or  the 
wind-swept  clouds,  to  look  at  the  bees  visiting  the  flowers, 
or  the  swallows  building  their  nest,  we  feel  that  we  are 
facing  something  new — living.  What  we  see  is  not,  indeed, 
in  every  respect  new  as  compared  with  the  inorganic,  for 
gravity  acts  on  animals  just  as  on  drops  of  rain,  and  living 
creatures  never  disobey,  so  far  as  we  know,  the  ordinary 
laws  of  physics  and  chemistry  which  sum  up  the  routine 
of  our  analytic  experience  of  the  not-living.  On  the  whole, 
however,  especially  if  we  look  at  animals  rather  than  plants, 
the  differences  impress  us  more  than  the  resemblances, 
we  feel  rightly  that  we  are  in  the  presence  of  something 
new.     Organisms  show  characteristics  which  mark  them  off 

79 


80  THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 

from  their  non-living  environment.  WHiat  are  these  charac- 
teristics ?  What  are  the  criteria  of  living  organisms  ?  What 
is  essential  in  the  admitted  contrast  between  the  living  and 
the  not-living  ? 

§  2.    The  Essential  Characteristics  of  Living  Organisms, 

In  the  most  general  way  what  we  see  is  plain  enough. 
We  see  organisms  acting  on  their  environment — displacing 
it,  changing  it,  eating  it,  and  so  on ;  and  again  we  see  that 
the  environment  acts  upon  the  organism — displacing  it, 
changing  it,  stimulating  it,  oxidising  part  of  it,  and  so  on. 
So  that  living  is  a  twofold  relation  between  organisms  and 
their  enviromnent — a  twofold  relation  of  action  and  reaction, 
of  thrust  and  parry,  of  doing  and  suffering.  At  one  moment 
the  organism  is  relatively  the  more  active,  at  another  the 
environment.  Living  is  a  continual  adjustment  between 
these  two  relations. 

When  we  look  at  the  facts  a  little  more  closely  we  see 
that  all  living  creatures — plants  as  well  as  animals — are 
active  towards  two  main  results,  their  own  self-maintenance 
and  the  continuance  of  their  race.  Organisms  have  in  their 
living  just  two  main  businesses — caring  for  themselves  and 
caring  for  their  offspring.  But  all  this  is  living  rather  than 
life;  we  are  only  hiding  the  problem  behind  the  word  organ- 
ism. What  are  the  marks  of  a  living  creature  ? — that  is  the 
question.  What  is  the  best  answer  we  can  give  for  the  time 
being?  Many  answers  have  been  given,  but  none  has  found 
wide  acceptance,  which  doubtless  means  that  biologists  have 
not  yet  seen  the  insignia  of  organisms  in  their  entirety,  or 
in  proper  perspective. 

One  of  the  best  statements  is  that  of  Roux,  who  recognises 
^YQ  "  elementary  functions  '' : 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS  81 

I.    Self-disassimilation. 
II.    Self-preservation,  including  assimilation,  growth,  movement, 
feeding,  etc. 

III.  Self-multiplication. 

IV.  Self-development. 

V.  Self-regulation  in  the  exercise  of  all  functions,  including 
self-differentiation,  self-adjustment,  self-adaptation,  and 
in  many  organisms  distinctly  recognisable  psychical  func- 
tions. 

It  is  very  interesting  to  notice  how  this  hard-headed  founder 
of  what  he  calls  ^'  developmental  mechanics  ''  speaks  deliber- 
ately of  self-preservation,  self-increase,  self-differentiation, 
self-regulation,  and  so  on. 

The  statement  we  propose  differs  a  little  from  this  and 
from  others,  being  an  attempt  at  a  logical  grouping  of  the 
fundamental  characteristics. 

§  3.     Persistence  of  a  Complex  Specific  Metabolism  and  of 
a  C orresponding  Specific  Organisation. 

The  image  of  the  organism  is  the  burning  bush  of  old ; 
it  is  all  afire,  yet  it  is  not  consumed.  Nee  tamen  consumeha- 
tur.  Or  it  is  like  the  sunlit  top  of  a  fountain  rising  in 
the  air;  its  component  elements  are  restlessly  changing  on 
their  way  np  or  on  their  way  down,  yet  the  form  remains 
approximately  the  same.  The  peculiarity  is  not  that  the  or- 
ganism is  in  continual  flux,  for  chemical  change  is  the 
rule  of  the  world;  the  characteristic  feature  is,  that  the 
changes  in  the  organism  are  so  regulated  and  balanced  that 
the  integrity  of  the  creature  is  retained.  The  great  English 
physiologist,  Sir  Michael  Foster,  used  to  say  that  ''  A  living 
body  is  a  vortex  of  chemical  and  molecular  change";  and 
the  image  of  a  vortex  expresses  the  fundamental  fact  of 
persistence  in  spite  of  ceaseless  change. 


82  THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 

A  vivid  statement  of  this  characteristic  feature  of  life 
was  given  by  Huxley  in  his  Crayfish  (1880,  p.  84)  : — '^  The 
parallel  between  a  whirlpool  in  a  stream  and  a  living  being, 
which  has  often  been  drawn,  is  as  just  as  it  is  striking.  The 
whirlpool  is  permanent,  but  the  particles  of  water  which 
constitute  it  are  incessantly  changing.  Those  which  enter 
it,  on  the  one  side,  are  whirled  around  and  temporarily  con- 
stitute a  part  of  its  individuality;  and  as  they  leave  it  on 
the  other  side,  their  places  are  made  good  by  new  comers. 

"  Those  who  have  seen  the  wonderful  whirlpool,  three 
miles  below  the  Falls  of  Niagara,  will  not  have  forgotten 
the  heaped-up  wave  which  tumbles  and  tosses,  a  very  em- 
bodiment of  restless  energy,  where  the  swift  stream  hurrying 
from  the  Falls  is  compelled  to  make  a  sudden  turn  towards 
Lake  Ontario.  However  changeful  in  the  contour  of  its 
crest,  this  wave  has  been  visible,  approximately  in  the  same 
place,  and  with  the  same  general  form,  for  centuries  past. 
Seen  from  a  mile  off,  it  would  appear  to  be  a  stationary 
hillock  of  water.  Viewed  closely,  it  is  a  typical  expression 
of  the  conflicting  impulses  generated  by  a  swift  rush  of 
material  particles. 

^'  Now,  with  all  our  appliances,  we  cannot  get  within  a 
good  many  miles,  so  to  speak,  of  the  crayfish.  If  we  could, 
we  should  see  that  it  was  nothing  but  the  constant  form 
of  a  similar  turmoil  of  material  molecules  which  are  con- 
stantly flowing  into  the  animal  on  the  one  side,  and  stream- 
ing out  on  the  other.'' 

Without  accepting  the  view  that  the  organism  is  exhaust- 
ively described  by  calling  it  ^'  nothing  but  the  constant  form 
of  a  turmoil  of  material  molecules  ",  without  forgetting  that 
the  organism- whirlpool  acts  on  the  stream,  and  gives  rise 
to  other  whirlpools,  we  welcome  the  metaphor  as  vividly  true 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS  83 

within  its  limits.  But  the  image  is  too  general  to  be  ade- 
quate; we  must  inquire  into  the  changeful  integrity  of  the 
organism  more  carefully.  Three  points  are  of  outstanding 
importance:  (a)  that  the  changes  in  the  organism  are  very 
complex,  having  essentially  to  do  with  protein  substances 
in  a  colloid  state;  (h)  that  they  are  specific  for  each  kind 
of  creature,  and  (c)  that  they  are  correlated  in  such  a  way 
that  they  go  on,  and  ihe  specific  structure  likewise  persists. 
Let  us  take  each  of  these  points  in  turn. 

(a)   Metaholism  of  Proteins. 

According  to  some  physiologists  the  only  absolute  differ- 
ence between  living  organisms  and  inorganic  bodies  is,  that 
proteins  are  universally  present  in  the  former  and  absent 
in  the  latter.  Verworn  writes :  "  Since  it  is  known  that 
the  nitrogenous  proteids,  with  their  allies,  which  in  part 
are  derived  from  the  proteids  and  in  part  are  necessary  to 
their  formation,  are  the  sole  organic  compounds  that  are 
never  wanting  in  living  substance,  that  everyivhere  they 
constitute  its  chief  mass  and  alone  are  sufficient  for  its  for- 
mation, it  can  be  said  that  all  living  organisms  are  charac- 
terised by  the  metabolism  of  proteids"  (1899,  p.  136). 
These  protein  compounds,  such  as  white  of  egg  or  the  gluten 
of  bread,  are  peculiarly  intricate,  with  a  large  number  of 
atoms  or  atom-groups  in  their  molecules;  they  diffuse  very 
slowly  and  do  not  readily  pass  through  membranes;  they 
occur  in  a  colloid  state,  and  although  some,  e.g.,  haemoglobin, 
are  crystallisable,  they  are  not  known  in  a  crystalloid  state 
in  the  living  organism ;  they  are  relatively  stable  bodies, 
yet  they  are  continually  breaking  down  and  being  built 
up  again  within  the  body,  partly  under  the  direct  influence 
of  ferments  or  enzymes.     The  constructive,  synthetic,   uj> 


84  THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 

building,  winding-up  processes  are  summed  up  in  the  term 
anabolism ;  the  disruptive,  analytic,  down-breaking,  running- 
down  processes  are  summed  up  in  the  term  katabolism,  both 
sets  of  processes  being  included,  in  the  term  metabolism,  for 
which  we  have,  unfortunately,  no  English  equivalent — like 
the  German  word  ^  Stoffwechsel ',  change  of  stuff.  But  when 
Verworn  says  ^'  The  life-process  consists  in  the  metabolism 
of  proteids  '^,  he,  like  Huxley,  is  summing  up  too  simply ; 
it  would  be  more  correct  to  say  that  living  always  involves 
the  metabolism  of  proteids  or  proteins. 

(b)     Specificity  or  Individuality  of  Metabolism. 

A  second  feature  is  that  each  organism  has  its  chemical 
individuality,  and  associated  with  this  a  specific  structural 
collocation.  There  is  a  chemical  specificity  in  the  milk  of 
nearly  related  mammals,  and  in  the  grape- juice  of  nearly 
related  vines.  A  stain  due  to  the  blood  of  a  rabbit  can 
be  readily  distinguished  from  a  stain  due  to  the  blood  of 
a  man — a  fact  that  has  been  used  with  effect  in  some  modern 
murder  trials.  Nay  more,  the  blood  of  a  horse  can  be 
distinguished  from  that  of  an  ass.  The  crystals  of  the  red 
blood  pigment  of  a  dog  differ  from  those  of  a  wolf;  indeed, 
those  of  a  domestic  dog  differ  from  those  of  the  wild  or 
feral  Australian  dingo.  The  familiar  fact  that  there  are 
individuals  who  cannot  eat  particular  kinds  of  food,  such 
as  eggs,  or  oysters,  without  more  or  less  serious  symptoms 
is  another  illustration  of  specificity  which  is  actually  indi- 
vidual. It  looks  as  if  a  man  were  individual  not  merely 
as  to  his  finger-prints,  but  as  to  his  chemical  molecules.  Even 
the  sexes  differ  in  their  metabolism,  as  is  diagrammatically 
shown  in  one  or  two  cases  where  the  colour  of  the  blood 
is  actually  different.     We  are  here  in  contact  again  with 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS  85 

what  we  have  already  alluded  to  as  one  of  the  remarkable 
differences  between  the  organic  and  the  inorganic — Individ- 
uality. We  come  back  to  what  was  said  of  old : — ''  All  flesh 
is  not  the  same  flesh:  but  there  is  one  kind  of  flesh  of  men, 
another  flesh  of  beasts,  another  of  fishes,  and  another  of 
birds.'' 

Prof.  Charles  Richet  and  other  physiologists  have  of 
recent  years  devoted  much  attention  to  the  phenomenon  that 
dosing  an  animal  with  certain  poisons  may  bring  about, 
if  the  animal  survives,  a  peculiar  physiological  condition, 
called  anaphylactic,  which  make  the  creature  hyper-sensitive 
to  subsequent  doses.  An  extract  of  sea-anemone's  tentacles 
is  very  poisonous  to  dogs,  but,  when  the  dog  recovers,  a  very 
minute  second  dose  a  month  afterwards  may  be  rapidly  fatal. 
The  phenomenon  of  anaphylaxis  is  extraordinarily  subtle; 
thus  a  man  to  whom  shrimp  flesh  is  poisonous  may  be  un- 
affected by  lobster.  He  is  violently  poisoned  if  he  eats  a 
single  shrimp,  and  yet  he  is  able  to  enjoy  a  whole  lobster; 
straining  at  a  gnat,  he  swallows  a  camel  with  ease.  The 
importance  of  this  is  that  it  points  towards  the  conception 
of  the  chemical  individuality  of  the  living  creature.  There 
is  a  specific  chemical  constitution  which  is  on  the  whole 
best  for  the  species  in  question,  which  makes  for  stability. 
Those  that  survive  the  introduction  of  a  poison,  it  may  be 
the 'result  of  digesting  a  particular  kind  of  food,  do  not 
necessarily  mark  the  surviving  type,  for  they  may  be  killed 
by  the  anaphylactic  violence  following  a  second  dose.  So 
much  the  worse  for  the  individual,  but  so  much  the  better, 
possibly,  for  the  species,  which  cannot  safely  admit  of  any 
compromise  with  poison.  Thus,  speaking  of  man,  Richet 
says :  ^^  Anaphylaxis  appears  to  be  an  eflicacious  and  ener- 
getic method  of  maintaining  the  chemical  stability  of  our 


86 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 


bodies  by  provoking  an  immediate  and  violent  reactional 
response  to  the  introduction  of  any  substance  v^hich  might 
change  it.'' 


(c)     Persistence  in  Spite  of  Change. 

In  the  ordinary  chemical  changes  in  the  inorganic  domain, 
as  in  the  weathering  of  rocks,  one  substance  changes  into 
another.  Iron  becomes  rust.  So  is  it  also  in  the  living 
body,  but  there  we  encounter  a  new  and  characteristic  fea- 
ture— continual  restitution  or  recuperation.  The  reactions 
are  not  self-destructive.  Repair  counteracts  waste  ceaselessly. 
There  is  a  continual  balancing  of  accounts  so  that  debts  are 
more  or  less  effectively  avoided.  Without  metaphor,  the 
specific  organisation  is  continuously  repaired  so  that  the 
specific  activity  continues,  and  if  organisms — after  they 
once  got  grip — had  been  content  to  remain  relatively  simple 
they  need  never  have  died — a  natural  death. 

We  regard  this  characteristic  as  fundamental, — the  capac- 
ity of  retaining  integrity  in  spite  of  ceaseless  specific  change, 
— one  may  almost  say  through  change.  For  the  energy  lib- 
erated in  katabolism  is  used  to  promote  compensating  anabo- 
lism.  The  more  it  changes,  the  more  it  remains  the  same 
thing;  the  most  intensely  living  animals  have  the  most  per- 
sistent integrity  of  form.  In  any  case,  an  organism  was 
not  worthy  of  the  name  until  it  showed,  for  a  time  at  least, 
not  merely  activity,  but  persistent  activity — a  power  of  bal- 
ancing accounts.  Like  a  clock  the  organism  is  always  run- 
ning down  and  always  needing  to  be  wound  up ;  but  unlike 
a  clock  it  can  wind  itself  up,  if  it  gets  food  and  rest.  In 
green  plants,  as  every  one  knows,  there  is  usually  a  quite 
unnecessary  amount  of  winding  up — with  the  interesting 
far-oif  result  that  animals,  utilising  already  manufactured 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS  87 

food,  have  time  for  ageucy,  and  that  we  have  time  for 
thinking  about  it  all. 

We  are  familiar  with  the  self-preservative  devices  and 
reactions  of  higher  animals  and  with  the  self-preservative 
way  in  which  the  various  organs  of  the  body  work  into  each 
other's  hands;  and  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  a  specific 
activity  in  a  nervous  system  may  be  restored  after  the  de- 
struction of  the  particular  nerve-elements  on  which  the  activ- 
ity previously  depended.  This  vicarious  functioning  is  all 
the  more  remarkable  inasmuch  as  there  is  not  in  higher 
animals  any  regeneration  or  replacement  of  nerve-cells  after 
birth.  But  deeper  than  all  this  is  the  correlation  of  chemical 
processes  in  the  individual  units,  so  that  down-breaking  leads 
to  up-building,  so  that  up-building  makes  further  down-break- 
ing possible,  the  pluses  balance  the  minuses,  and  the  creature 
goes  on.  The  unicellular  organism  spends  its  substance  and 
yet  has  it,  through  its  fundamental  capacity  for  self-renewal. 
If  the  living  creature  is  a  machine,  it  is  a  self-stoking,  self- 
repairing  machine,  and  it  can  take  a  rest  betimes. 

Several  saving-clauses  must  be  appended: — (1)  The  or- 
ganism shows  persistent  functionality,  but  it  is  not  known 
to  offer  any  exception  to  the  law  of  the  conservation  of 
energy.  In  living  it  expends  energy,  and  suffers  wear  and 
tear;  it  cannot  continue  unless  it  captures  more  energy  and 
is  able  to  repair  its  structure.  Fatigue  and  the  dying  of 
parts,  such  as  leaves,  not  to  speak  of  senescence  and  death 
itself,  show  that  the  fundamental  capacity  for  self-main- 
tenance is  not  perfect.  But  the  broad  fact  is  that  the  capacity 
has  for  a  variable  time  a  very  considerable  degree  of  per- 
fection. The  organism's  chemical  activities  (and  repair- 
processes)  are  so  correlated  that  it  remains  for  a  considerable 
time  a  going  concern.     As  we  shall  afterwards  see,  some 


88  THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 

investigators  claim  for  the  organism  a  unique  power  of  re- 
tarding the  universal  tendency  of  energy  to  sink  into  unavail- 
able form,  in  other  words,  of  evading,  in  some  measure,  the 
second  law  of  thermodynamics. 

(2)  If  a  piece  of  organism  be  ground  up  in  a  mortar  and 
the  expressed  juice  poured  into  a  vessel,  a  process  of  metab- 
olism is  sometimes  observable  similar  to  that  which  occurs 
in  the  living  body.  Every  one  knows  that  pepsin  may  be 
bought  at  the  chemist's,  and  used  to  digest  a  shred  of  beef 
in  a  test-tube.  It  is  true  that  neither  the  ferment  nor  the 
proteid  can  as  yet  be  synthesised  artificially,  but  this  may 
be  only  a  question  of  time  and  ingenuity.  We  cannot  dog- 
matise as  to  the  limits  of  mimicking  in  a  test-tube  what 
occurs  normally  in  an  organism,  and  if  the  reaction  be 
mimicked,  then  there  is  nothing  characteristically  vital  about 
it,  any  more  than  there  is  about  organic  substances  like 
sugar  and  indigo  which  used  to  be  regarded  as  producible 
in  organisms  only.  But  the  point  is  that  in  the  living 
organism  the  process  in  question  is  a  link  in  a  concatenated 
series  which  makes  for  self-repair  and  continuance.  The 
essential  secret  of  living  is  in  the  correlation  which  secures 
persistence  amid  change. 

(3)  If  the  whole  of  a  living  organism,  say  a  spinach 
plant,  were  to  be  minced  up  quickly,  no  change  of  chemical 
composition  would  necessarily  occur  for  some  little  time, 
but  what  exhibition  would  there  be  of  the  alleged  funda- 
mental characteristic  of  self-repair?  It  may  be  answered 
that  the  mincing  has  destroyed  the  make-up  of  the  organism, 
that  the  living  units  of  the  body  arc  in  most  cases  adapted 
for  self-repair  only  in  particular  conditions,  such  as  an 
environment  of  other  cells,  in  the  collocation  which  has  been 
abolished  by  the  mincing.    But  while  the  power  of  self-repair 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS  89 

cannot  operate  except  under  certain  conditions,  it  is  an  ex- 
traordinary fact  that  some  creatures  can  be  re-made  even 
after  mincing.  If  a  sponge  be  minced  up  and  forced  through 
a  cloth  filter,  little  drops  of  the  debris,  placed  in  appropriate 
environment,  will  at  once  proceed  to  build  themselves  up 
into  new  sponges.  The  characteristic  metabolism  is  retained, 
re-differentiation  sets  in,  the  tiny  mass  begins  to  feed  and 
grow,  the  normal  organisation  is  restored,  the  sponge  is  once 
more  a  going  concern.  The  restoration  of  the  sponge  from 
a  drop  of  debris  is  as  different  from  the  re-building  of  a 
crystal  from  a  fragment,  as  the  highly  differentiated  sponge 
from  the  very  homogeneous  crystal,  or  as  the  intensely  meta- 
bolic living  sponge  from  the  self-contained,  though  certainly 
not  inert,  crystal. 

(4)  If  living  implies  persistent  metabolism,  we  must 
admit  a  saving-clause  to  the  effect  that  the  metabolism  may 
sink  at  times  to  a  minimum.  Further  investigation  will 
make  things  clearer,  but  there  is  difficulty  at  present  in 
regard  to  the  familiar  facts  that  dried  seeds  may  retain  their 
power  of  germinating  for  as  long  as  a  man  lives,  or  that 
desiccated  animals  and  germs  of  animals  (as  in  the  case 
of  some  thread-worms,  rotifers,  bear-animalcules,  and  small 
crustaceans)  may  remain  in  a  state  of  so-called  suspended 
animation  for,  it  may  be,  a  dozen  years.  Small  ]N"ematodo 
worms  have  been  known  to  revive  after  being  fourteen  years 
dry — alive  rather  than  living.  It  has  not  been  satisfactorily 
proved  that  mummy  wheat  germinates,  but  Becquercl  got 
seedlings  from  seeds  which  had  lain  for  eighty-seven  years 
in  a  herbarium — a  Tiortus  siccus  indeed. 

Becquerel  took  seeds  of  wheat,  mustard,  and  lucerne,  and 
perforated  their  air-tight  seed  coats;  dried  them  in  a  vacuum 
at  40°  C.  for  six  months;  sealed  them  up  in  an  almost  ex- 


90  THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 

hausted  tube  for  a  year;  submitted  them  to  the  temperature 
of  liquid  air  ( — 190°)  for  three  weeks,  and  of  liquid  hydro- 
gen ( — 250°)  for  three  days;  and  then  put  them  on  moist 
cotton  wool,  where  they  germinated.  We  are  forced  by  such 
experiments  to  realise  that  life  is  not  an  entity  but  a  relation 
between  organism  and  environment,  but  we  must  have  more 
facts  before  we  deal  effectively  with  the  difficulties  which 
the  facts  raise.  Does  the  process  of  living  suffer  complete 
interruption,  and  recommence  when  water  soaks  in,  and 
oxygen  after  it,  as  Becquerel  seems  to  think;  or  does  the 
metabolism  sink  to  a  minimum,  like  the  combustion  of  a 
sleeping  fire  ?  Very  interesting,  in  this  connection,  is  Pro- 
fessor Waller's  observation  that  as  long  as  a  tissue  is  living, 
or  an  egg  capable  of  development,  or  a  seed  able  to  germinate, 
there  is  a  particular  electrical  reaction — the  ^  blaze  '  reaction 
which  disappears  when  living  has  irrecoverably  ceased. 

(5)  The  criterion  of  an  organism  to  which  we  have  given 
prominence  is  that  of  persistence,  which  is  obviously  relative. 
Some  organisms  can  keep  agoing  for  a  hundred  years,  some 
for  only  a  hundred  days,  and  some  for  only  a  hundred  hours. 
The  question  arises  as  to  the  limit.  Is  it  possible  that  there 
were  primeval  organisms  which  lived  for  only  a  hundred 
seconds  ?  If  so,  how  would  these  hypothetical  creatures 
differ  from  the  pill  of  potassium  which  flares  itself  out, 
rushing  about  on  the  surface  of  the  basin  of  water  on  which 
it  has  been  thrown?  The  answer  must  be,  that  it  is  not 
the  length  of  life  that  counts;  the  criterion  is  whether, 
alongside  of  disruptive  processes  associated  with  protein  sub- 
stances, there  were  also  correlated  constructive  processes, 
making  for  repair  and  self-maintenance.  Some  Infusorians 
divide  more  than  once  every  day,  some  Bacteria  divide  more 
than  once  every  hour,  and  these  may  be  near  the  limit  of 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS  91 

the  duration  of  individual  life  at  the  one  extreme.  The 
Big  Trees  living  for  two  thousand  years  may  be  near  the 
limit  in  the  other  direction. 

§  4.    The  Capacity  of  Growth,  Reproduction,  and 

Development. 

One  can  readily  conceive  of  an  organism  which  balanced 
its  accounts  from  hour  to  hour,  but  never  had  much  margin. 
There  are  such  delicately-poised  ephemeral  organisms,  which 
live,  to  use  a  homely  expression,  from  hand  to  mouth.  They 
are  going  concerns,  but  they  are  trading  on  a  very  restricted 
capital,  and  cannot  survive  a  crisis.  So  we  see  at  once  that 
there  is  a  commanding  advantage  in  being  able  to  store  energy 
in  potential  form,  and  this  is  fundamentally  characteristic 
of  organisms — especially  of  plants.  As  regards  the  ratio 
between  the  income  of  energy  and  the  work  done,  living 
organisms  are  far  ahead  of  any  engine,  but  there  is  also 
the  power  of  accumulating  energy  which  can  be  used  later. 
Thus  we  are  led  to  recognise  the  power  of  growth  as  one 
of  the  characteristics  of  organisms.  A  surplus  of  income 
over  expenditure  is  the  primal  condition  of  organic  growth. 
It  has  further  to  be  noted  that  the  growth  of  living  creatures, 
as  contrasted  with  that  of  crystals,  is  at  the  expense  of 
materials  different  from  those  which  compose  the  organism ; 
it  implies  active  assimilation,  not  passive  accretion;  and  it 
is  very  definitely  a  regulated  process.  An  organism  does  not 
grow  like  a  snowball. 

But  growth  leads  on  to  multiplication.  As  Haeckel  clearly 
indicated  in  his  Generelle  Morphologic  (1866),  repro- 
duction is  discontinuous  growth.  How  impossible  it  is  to 
draw  any  hard  and  fast  line  between  a  fragmentation  whic^li 
separates  off  overgrowths,   and   the  more  specialised   modes 


92 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 


of  reproduction !  Perhaps  we  are  looking  back  to  near  the 
beginning  of  organic  life  when  we  see  the  fragmentation 
of  a  protoplasmic  corpuscle  which  has  grown  too  large  to 
be  a  successful  unity.  It  cannot  be  gainsaid  that  the  division 
of  a  cell  remains  one  of  the  mysteries  of  the  world.  Professor 
Bateson  writes  (1913,  p.  39):  "I  know  nothing  which  to 
a  man  well  trained  in  scientific  knowledge  and  method  brings 
so  vivid  a  realisation  of  our  ignorance  of  the  nature  of 
life  as  the  mystery  of  cell-division.  .  .  .  It  is  this  power 
of  spontaneous  division  which  most  sharply  distinguishes 
the  living  from  the  non-living.  .  .  .  The  greatest  advance 
I  can  conceive  in  biology  would  be  the  discovery  of  the 
instability  which  leads  to  the  continual  division  of  the  cell. 
When  I  look  at  a  dividing  cell  I  feel  as  an  astronomer  might 
do  if  he  beheld  the  formation  of  a  double  star:  that  an 
original  act  of  creation  is  taking  place  before  me.'' 

In  most  cases  the  cell  divides  into  two  precisely  similar 
daughter-cells,  this  being  associated  with  an  exceedingly 
complicated  division  of  the  nucleus,  which  secures  that  each 
of  the  two  daughter-cells  gets  a  meticulously  precise  half 
of  the  chromatin  material  of  the  original  nucleus.  But 
the  difficulty  of  the  problem  is  increased  by  the  fact  that 
a  cell  may  also  divide  into  two  dissimilar  halves,  as  appears 
to  happen  in  certain  modes  of  inheritance.  In  exceptional 
cases  among  multicellular  organisms  the  process  of  cell- 
division  is  simpler  and  more  direct,  and  in  some  unicellular 
organisms  it  is  very  simple.  It  is  probable  that  the  com- 
plicated methods  of  cell-division  which  are  now  the  rule 
are  the  results  of  a  long  process  of  evolution,  and  that  the 
fundamental  characteristic  is  simply  division.  But  why 
should  the  protoplasmic  unit  divide?  Spencer,  Leuckart, 
and   James   pointed   out   independently   that,    as    a  cell   of 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS  93 

regular  shape  increases  in  volume,  it  does  not  proportionately 
increase  in  surface.  If  it  be  a  sphere,  the  volume  of  material 
to  be  kept  alive  increases  as  the  cube  of  the  radius,  while 
the  surface,  through  which  the  keeping  alive  is  effected,  in- 
creases only  as  the  square.  Thus  there  tends  to  be  a  hazard- 
ous disproportion  between  volume  and  surface,  which  may 
set  up  instability.  The  disturbed  balance  may  be  restored 
by  the  emission  of  processes  from  the  surface  of  the  cell, 
making  it  like  a  country  with  a  big  coast-line,  as  in  Rhizopod 
Protozoa  or  in  the  amoeboid  cells  found  in  most  multicellular 
animals.  But  the  disturbed  balance  is  normally  restored 
by  the  cell  dividing  into  two  cells.  This  view  indicates  the 
advantage  of  cell-division,  but  beyond  the  hint  that  a  dis- 
proportion between  volume  and  surface  may  induce  physio- 
logical instability,  perhaps  a  cell-solution  or  cytolysis,  it 
does  not  tell  us  what  brings  the  process  about. 

It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  if  a  non-nucleated  fragment 
of  cell-substance  be  cut  off  from  a  large  Protozoon,  it  can 
move  about  for  a  time,  but  it  cannot  feed  or  grow,  and 
sooner  or  later  it  dies.  But  a  nucleated  fragment  does  not 
die.  There  are  other  facts  which  point  to  the  same  conclu- 
sion— that  the  nucleus  is  a  sort  of  dynamic  centre  to  the  cell 
(especially  a  trophic  centre),  and  that  stability  depends  on 
keeping  up  a  certain  proportion  or  relation  between  the 
nucleoplasm  and  the  cytoplasm.  It  follows,  therefore,  that 
if  growth  imply  an  increase  of  cell-substance  out  of  pro- 
portion to  nuclear  substance,  a  state  of  physiological  in- 
stability may  set  in,  which  cell-division  may  counteract. 
In  many  large  Protozoa  there  are  numerous  nuclei. 

It  has  also  been  suggested  that  a  period  of  growth  is  auto- 
matically followed  by  a  process  of  "  autokatalysis  '\  or  self- 
fermentation,  but  precise  data  are  awanting.     What  we  wish 


94  THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 

to  indicate,  however,  is  that  the  correlation  of '  chemical 
processes  which  makes  continued  self-maintenance  possible, 
naturally  leads  on  to  growth,  and  that  growth  naturally  leads 
on  to  division  or  reproduction.  This  remains  true  though 
our  ignorance  of  the  physiology  of  cell-division  is  confessed. 

It  is  possible,  however,  to  take  another  step.  It  is  char- 
acteristic of  organisms  to  multiply,  and  they  multiply  by 
division,  separating  off  a  fragment,  a  group  of  cells,  or  a 
single  cell.  This  brings  us  face  to  face  with  development 
— the  power  that  a  part  has  of  growing  and  differentiating 
until  it  has  literally  reproduced  the  whole.  Development 
is  the  making  visible  of  the  latent  potentialities — the  intrinsic 
manifoldness — of  the  liberated  fragment,  or  sample,  or  cell; 
and  while  the  development  of  a  fertilised  egg-cell  into  an 
organism  remains  to  us  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world, 
we  venture  to  suggest  that  the  development  may  be  profitably 
thought  of  as  a  continuation  of  the  processes  which  are  always 
going  on  to  preserve  the  specific  organisation  in  good  repair. 
Every  gradation  between  the  two  may  be  found  in  the 
phenomena  of  regrowth  or  regeneration  of  lost  parts.  But 
when  we  associate  this  capacity  of  development  with  growth 
and  multiplying  we  see  that  we  may  unite  them  all  in  the 
conception  of  cyclical  development,  which  Huxley  was  wont 
to  emphasise  in  his  discussions  of  the  characteristics  of  living 
creatures. 

From  a  microscopic  egg-cell  an  embryo  plant  develops^ 
the  ovule  becomes  a  seed,  the  seed  a  seedling;  by  insensible 
steps  there  is  fashioned  a  large  and  varied  fabric  of  root 
and  stem,  leaves  and  flowers.  But  no  sooner  has  the  edifice 
attained  completeness  than  it  begins  to  crumble.  The  grass 
withereth  and  the  flower  thereof  fadeth,  and  soon  there  is 
nothing  left  but  the  seeds,  which  begin  the  cycle  anew.     It 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS  95 

is,  Huxley  said,  ''  a  Sisyphean  process,  in  the  course  of  which 
the  living  and  growing  plant  passes  from,  the  relative  sim- 
plicity and  latent  potentiality  of  the  seed  to  the  full  epiphany 
of  a  highly  differentiated  type,  thence  to  fall  back  to  sim- 
plicity and  potentiality  again  ".  So  is  it  also  among  animals. 
The  microscopic  egg-cell  divides  and  re-divides,  and  there  is 
built  up  an  embryo.  This  may  develop  steadily  and  directly 
into  the  likeness  of  its  kind,  or  it  may  give  rise  to  a  divergent 
larval  phase  such  as  we  are  familiar  with  in  caterpillars 
and  tadpoles.  Through  more  or  less  critical  phases  of  ado- 
lescence the  adult  stage  is  reached,  and  it  is  a  not  infrequent 
achievement  to  lengthen  out  this  period  of  full  epiphany 
and  freedom.  But  whether  the  creature's  life  is  counted 
in  days  or  in  months,  years  or  centuries,  there  is  for  most 
an  ascending  and  a  descending  curve  from  the  vita  minima 
of  the  egg-cell  (which  often  dies  in  a  few  hours  if  it  be 
not  fertilised)  to  the  vita  minima  of  senescence  or  to  the 
not  less  frequent  terminus  of  violent  death. 

In  reference  to  Sir  Michael  Foster's  definition,  ^^  A  living 
thing  is  a  vortex  of  chemical  and  molecular  change  ",  Pro- 
fessor Bateson  points  out  that  the  living  ''  vortex  ''  differs 
from  all  others  in  the  fact  that  it  can  divide  and  throw  off 
other  '^  vortices  ",  through  which  again  matter  continually 
swirls  (1913,  p.  40).  The  parallel,  he  says,  may  be  carried 
even  further,  for  a  simple  vortex,  like  a  smoke-ring,  if  pro- 
jected in  a  suitable  way,  will  writhe  into  two  rings.  '^  If  each 
loop  as  it  is  formed  could  grow  and  then  twist  again  to  form 
more  loops,  we  should  have  a  model  representing  several 
of  the  essential  features  of  living  things"  (1013,  p.  40). 
It  has  to  be  added,  as  we  have  seen,  that  the  living  vortex 
is  the  seat  of  complex  and  specific  chemical  changes  which 
are  correlated  in  such  a  way  that  the  creature  lasts. 


96  THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 

This  power  of  persisting  on  its  own  path — a  sort  of  pro- 
toplasmic inertia — is  very  fundamental.  It  has  received 
remarkable  illustration  in  the  astounding  facts  established 
in  regard  to  the  continued  life  of  excised  or  explanted 
fragments  or  even  cells.  Pieces  of  skin,  drops  of  blood, 
fragments  of  embryo  may  with  proper  precautions  be  kept 
alive  for  months. 

Is  there  any  unifying  concept  behind  these  extraordinary 
poAvers  of  growing,  multiplying,  developing,  and  growing 
again  ?  The  well-known  physicist,  Professor  Joly  of  Dublin, 
made  many  years  ago  (1891)  the  very  interesting  sugges- 
tion that  the  living  creature  has  a  unique  power  of  accumu- 
lating energy  acceleratively.  ''  The  organism  is  a  configu- 
ration of  matter  which  absorbs  energy  acceleratively,  without 
limit,  when  unconstrained"  (p.  79).  If  we  heat  a  piece 
of  iron  or  charge  a  Leyden  jar,  the  process  becomes  more 
and  more  difficult  as  we  go  on.  '^  The  transfer  of  energy 
into  any  inanimate  material  system  is  attended  by  effects 
retardative  to  the  transfer  and  conducive  to  dissipation." 
But  the  young  leaf  growing  in  the  sunlight  utilises  the  solar 
energy  acceleratively;  the  more  it  gets,  the  more  it  grows, 
and  the  more  it  can  take.  ''  The  transfer  of  energy  into  any 
animate  material  system  is  attended  by  effects  conducive 
to  the  transfer,  and  retardative  of  dissipation."  On  what 
this  peculiar  power  depends  Professor  Joly  does  not  tell  us — 
that  would  be  the  secret  of  life;  but  it  is  very  interesting 
to  get  from  a  physicist  a  clear  statement  of  the  dynamic 
contrast  between  animate  and  inanimate  material  systems. 
^'  The  animate  system  is  aggressive  on  the  energy  available 
to  it,  spends  it  with  economy,  and  invests  it  with  interest, 
till  death  finally  deprives  it  of  all." 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS  97 

§  5.    Effective  Behaviour,  Registration  of  Experience, 

and  Vanability, 

So  far  we  have  sought  to  arrange  in  a  logical  way  certain 
insigTiia  of  organisms.  Absolutely  fundamental  is  the  power 
of  persistent  individuality  in  spite  of  ceaseless  change. 
There  is  a  unifying  idea  of  persistence  or  of  functional 
inertia.  This  led  us  to  consider  growth,  multiplication,  and 
cyclical  development.  Here,  perhaps,  there  is  a  unifying 
idea  of  accumulating  potentialities.  We  have  now  to  recog- 
nise that  living  creatures  are  characterised  by  effective  be- 
haviour, registration  of  experience,  and  variability.  The 
common  note  in  this  triad  of  qualities  may  not  be  obvious, 
but  is  it  not  agency,  self-expression,  creativeness  ? 

(a)  Life  is  a  kind  of  activity  which  comes  to  its  own  in  ef- 
fective behaviour,  that  is  to  say,  in  an  organically  determined 
correlated  series  of  acts  which  converge  towards  a  definite  re- 
sult. Behaviour  is  seen  at  many  levels  and  in  diverse  modes, 
which  will  be  discussed  later,  but  its  common  features  are 
correlation,  concatenation,  individuality,  and  purposiveness. 
Big  words,  indeed,  for  the  Amoeba  gliding  along  on  the  mud 
of  the  duck-pond.  And  yet,  if  we  take  this  Amoeba,  and 
lay  aside  the  contempt  which  superficial  familiarity  breeds, 
we  find  that  we  are  only  beginning  to  make  its  acquaintance. 

Professor  Jennings  describes  a  large  Amoeba,  a,  which  had 
imperfectly  swallowed  a  smaller  one,  h.  The  prisoner  moved 
as  if  trying  to  escape,  the  swallower  moved  as  if  trying  to 
prevent  it.  Finally  the  small  one  did  get  completely  out 
again,  whereupon  the  large  Amoeba,  a,  reversed  its  course, 
overtook  h,  engulfed  it  completely,  and  started  away.  The 
small  Amoeba,  again  imprisoned,  lay  still  until  through  the 
movements  of  a  there  happened  to  be  but  a  thin  layer  of 


98  THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 

protoplasm  between  it  and  freedom.  It  then  broke  loose, 
escaped  comj^letely,  and  was  not  further  molested.  If  this 
behaviour  had  been  described  and  even  drawn  by  a  tyro, 
we  might  have  distrusted  it  entirely,  but  when  we  have  it 
from  a  master  in  the  difficult  art  of  observing  Protozoa, 
we  must  give  it  careful  consideration.  Without  saying  any- 
thing just  now  about  the  Amoeba's  mind,  must  we  not  agTee 
that  this  concatenation  of  following,  catching,  losing,  chasing, 
re-capturing,  and  losing  again  is  either  behaviour  or  magic  ? 

Most  living  creatures  show  more  behaviour  than  is  gen- 
erally supposed,  but  many  of  them,  plants  especially,  have 
little.  We  often  complain  that  they  do  not  show  any  inter- 
esting habits  when  we  are  watching  them.  This  may  be 
admitted,  however,  without  affecting  the  general  truth  of  the 
statement  that  organisms  are  characterised  by  a  capacity  for 
effective  behaviour.  That  many  men  run  their  lives,  or 
have  to  run  their  lives  with  a  minimum  of  thinking,  does 
not  affect  the  general  truth  of  the  statement  that  men  are 
characterised  by  a  capacity  for  rational  discourse. 

(b)  The  effectiveness  which  characterises  the  behaviour  of 
those  organisms  that  show  enough  to  be  profitable  subjects  of 
study,  appears  to  depend  on  profiting  by  experience  in  the  in- 
dividual lifetime,  or  on  the  entailed  results  of  ancestral  ex- 
periments (chiefly,  perhaps,  in  the  form  of  germinal  varia- 
tions), or,  usually,  on  both.  The  registration  of  experience 
and  experiments  is  one  of  the  insignia  of  organisms,  but 
we  must  include  under  the  term  organism  the  germ-cell, 
which  is  an  implicit  organism,  a  microcosm  corresponding 
to  the  macrocosm  which  develops  from  it.  We  must  include 
the  germ-cells  because,  so  far  as  we  can  judge  at  present, 
many  if  not  most  new  departures  of  importance  have  had 
their  origin  as  germinal  variations.     If  the  word  '  experi- 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS  09 

ment '  be  inadmissible,  some  other  will  serve.  We  refer 
to  the  permutations  and  combinations,  the  adjustments  and 
compromises,  the  subtractions  and  additions  that  seem  to 
occur  in  the  history  of  the  germ-cells. 

As  W.  K.  Clifford  said,  ''  It  is  the  peculiarity  of  living 
things  not  merely  that  they  change  under  the  influence 
of  surrounding  circumstances,  but  that  any  change  which 
takes  place  in  them  is  not  lost,  but  retained,  and,  as  it 
were,  built  into  the  organism  to  serve  as  the  foundation 
for  future  actions."  As  Bergson  puts  it,  ^^  Its  past,  in 
its  entirety,  is  prolonged  into  its  present,  and  abides  there, 
actual  and  acting."  As  Jennings  says,  from  the  physiologi- 
cal point  of  view,  in  discussing  the  behaviour  of  the  brainless 
starfish,  "  The  precise  way  each  part  shall  act  under  the 
influence  of  the  stimulus  must  be  determined  by  the  past 
history  of  that  part ;  by  the  stimuli  that  have  acted  upon 
it,  by  the  reactions  which  it  has  given,  by  the  results  which 
these  reactions  have  produced  (as  well  as  by  the  present 
relations  of  this  part  to  other  parts,  and  by  the  immediate 
effects  of  its  present  action).  We  know  as  solidly  as  we 
know  anything  in  physiology  that  the  history  of  an  organism 
does  modify  it  and  its  actions — in  ways  not  yet  thoroughly 
understood,  doubtless,  yet  none  the  less  real." 

(c)  The  crowning  attribute  of  life — and  the  most  elusive 
— is  variability,  the  organism's  power  of  producing  something 
distinctively  new.  At  present  we  must  take  it  as  '  given  \ 
The  capacity  most  like  it  is  Man's  power  of  mental  experi- 
ment, the  secret  of  the  artist,  the  musician,  the  poet,  the 
inventor,  the  thinker,  and  the  true  statesman. 

A  discussion  of  this  innermost  secret  of  life  must  be  post- 
poned till  we  come  to  consider  the  factors  in  evolution,  but 
two  points  may  be  noticed  in  the  meantime.     There  is  varia- 


100  THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 

tion  and  variation.  There  is  a  change  wrought  on  the  body 
by  some  peculiarity  of  nurture,  environment,  or  habit.  That 
is  a  modification,  and,  so  far  as  we  are  aware,  it  is  not 
transmissible  in  itself  or  in  any  representative  degree.  So 
this  does  not  help  us.  There  are  also  variations  which 
consist  in  the  loss  of  some  ancestral  character,  such  as  horns 
or  a  tail,  and  we  know  that  there  are  opportunities  in  the 
history  of  the  germ-cells  for  the  dropping  out  of  hereditary 
items.  There  are  also  variations  which  consist  in  new 
arrangements  of  ancestral  characters,  as  when  the  progeny 
of  black  and  yellow  rabbits  are  grey.  Many  apparently 
novel  features  are  just  old  characters  in  new  guise.  This 
again  is  not  difficult  to  understand  in  a  general  way.  But 
the  kind  of  variation  before  which  we  are  dumb  is  the 
brusque  origin  of  something  distinctively  novel,  a  new  pat- 
tern, an  originality.  And  unless  one  is  to  make  the  assump- 
tion that  every  character  was  given  in  the  first  organisms 
and  that  evolution  is  only  unrolling,  time  counting  for 
nothing,  we  are  bound  to  assmne  that  these  momentous 
new  departures  have  been  of  frequent  occurrence  all  down 
the  ages.  Our  suggestion  meanwhile  is  simply  an  assump- 
tion that  organisms  are  essentially  creative.  Even  the  in- 
organic has  a  tendency  to  complexify ;  a  fortiori  the  organic. 
The  chemist  is  always  turning  out  new  carbon-compounds, 
the  organism  is  an  unconsciously  inventive  chemist.  The 
same  chemical  substance  can  sometimes  crystallise  in  more 
than  one  way — we  know  the  variety  of  snow  crystals — so, 
but  with  infinitely  more  subtlety,  may  the  germ-cell  experi- 
ment with  its  own  architecture,  or  trade  with  its  environment 
in  adventurous  differentiation.  Just  as  an  intact  organism 
from  the  Amoeba  to  the  Elephant  tries  experiments,  so  the 
germ-cell,  which  is  no  ordinary  cell,  but  an  implicit  organism, 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS  101 

a  condensed  individuality,  may  make  experiments  in  self- 
expression,  which  we  call  variations  or  mutations.  Such, 
at  least,  is  our  present  view  of  a  great  mystery. 

What  has  all  this  to  do  with  Natural  Theology?  Little, 
perhaps,  directly;  but  much  indirectly.  For  a  superficial 
or  flimsy  conception  of  the  essential  characteristics  of  living 
creatures  means  putting  a  bushel  over  one  of  the  great 
wonders  of  the  world.  A  commonplace  view  of  Animate 
E'ature  is  an  impiety,  and  a  mechanical  view  is  a  gratuitous 
complication  of  the  problems  of  existence.  Geniuses  like 
Nietzsche  of  yesterday  and  D'Annunzio  of  to-day  have  ad- 
mitted the  darkening  of  their  eyes  by  a  mechanical  view 
of  life,  accepted  as  scientific.  We  seek  to  show  that  it  need 
not  be  accepted. 

But  there  are  three  concluding  remarks  that  we  wish  to 
make: — (a)  The  subject  is  not  yet  a  matter  of  exact  science, 
and  we  do  not  say  that  ours  is  the  true  or  the  truest  way 
of  stating  the  criteria  of  organisms.  It  is  the  best  answer 
we  personally  can  give  for  the  time  being.  Some  would 
state,  more  definitely  than  we  have  done,  that  all  organisms 
are  psycho-physical  beings.  And  others  would  reject,  erro- 
neously, we  think,  all  such  categories  as  individuality,  be- 
haviour, experience,  experiment,  and  self-expression. 

(h)  Secondly,  when  we  say  that  an  organism  has  the 
capacity  of  retaining  its  integrity  in  spite  of  ceaseless  metab- 
olism, we  do  not  explain  this  capacity.  If  we  could  we 
should  know  the  secret  of  life,  which  remains  hidden  from  us. 

(c)  Thirdly,  our  description  of  the  general  characteris- 
tics of  living  creatures  remains  too  cold-blooded.  Like  every 
analytical  and  formal  treatment  it  falls  far  short  of  giving 
an  adequate  idea  of  life  in  its  concrete  fulness.  No  one 
who  did  not  know  plants  and  animals  would  gather  from 


102  THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 

our  statement  any  idea  of  their  sparkle  and  subtlety  and 
surprises.  For  that  requires  more  than  science.  We  must 
use  our  everyday  and  our  red-letter  day  experience  of  liv- 
ingness  both  in  ourselves  and  in  other  organisms,  wherewith 
to  enliven  sympathetically  all  that  biology  can  give.  We 
need  not  be  in  the  least  afraid  of  engendering  an  exaggerated 
idea  of  the  wonder  of  life ! 

IN    CONCLUSION. 

No  one  can  tell  us  wherein  a  living  organism  essentially 
differs  from  a  not-living  thing.  The  one  is  alive,  the  other  is 
not.  Perhaps  we  err  in  speaking  too  much  about  the  un- 
read riddle  of  life.  For  this  seems  to  imply  the  expectation 
that  we  shall  bo  able  some  day  to  explain  life  in  terms  of 
something  else — an  expectation  which  is  not  likely  to  meet 
with  anything  but  disappointment.  The  materialists  look 
forward  to  explaining  or  re-describing  the  activity  we  call 
living  in  terms  of  matter  and  motion.  The  animists  look 
forward  to  doing  the  same  in  terms  of  soul.  But  it  is  not  at 
all  evident  why  we  should  be  so  very  desirous  to  explain 
life  in  terms  of  anything  else,  or  why  we  should  be  sanguine 
in  making  the  attempt.  Life  is  an  aspect  of  reality  which 
found,  expression  when  there  were  evolved  those  particular 
collocations  of  matter  and  energy  which  we  call  organisms, 
just  as  Mind  is  an  aspect  of  reality  which  found  expression 
when  nervous  systems  of  considerable  degi^ee  of  complexity 
were  established.  We  mean  by  Life  and  Mind — the  capacity 
for  certain  kinds  of  activity  and  behaviour  and  internal  ex- 
perimenting with  ideas,  and  it  may  well  be  that  Life  and 
Mind  are  alike  irreducible,  and  that  they  are  not  very  differ- 
ent from  one  another.  But  this  is  mere  speculation.  What 
is  practically  more  important  is  to  appreciate  the  character- 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS  103 

istics  of  living  creatures.  Hence  this  inquiry  into  the  criteria 
of  livingness.  The  bearing  of  this  on  modern  Xatural  The- 
ology is  that  an  easy-going  concept  of  '  organism  '  is  a  dead 
fly  that  may  spoil  many  an  ointment. 

SU3IMARY. 

If  we  are  to  reach  a  coherent  view  of  Nature,  such  as  could  be 
included  in  a  philosophy,  we  must  arrive  at  some  definition  of  the 
characteristics  which  mark  off  hving  organisms  from  their  not-living 
surroundings.  In  the  present  state  of  science  this  definition  cannot 
be  more  than  tentative,  but  it  must  be  continually  attempted. 

Living  may  be  described  as  a  twofold  relation  of  action  and  re- 
action between  organisms  and  their  environment,  and  living  crea- 
tures are  always  active  towards  two  main  results,  self-maintenance 
and  the  continuance  of  their  race.  But  the  difiScult  question  is: 
What  are  the  insignia  of  living  creatures? 

The  first  is  the  power  of  persisting  in  a  complex  specific  metabo- 
lism, and  in  a  corresponding  specific  organisation,  (a)  The  essential 
metabolism  of  life  has  to  do  with  the  up-building  and  down-break- 
ing of  protein  substances  in  a  colloid  state,  (b)  Each  living 
creature  has  its  own  chemical  individuality  and  its  own  specific 
microscopic  and  ultra-microscopic  architecture,  (c)  Part  of  the 
secret  of  life  is  a  correlation  of  chemical  processes  so  that  m 
spite  of  ceaseless  change  the  organism  persists  in  its  integrity 
for  days  or  years  or  centuries.  It  is  always  burning  away;  but 
it  is  not  consumed. 

Secondly  there  are  the  capacities  of  (a)  growth,  of  (b)  re- 
production, and  of  (c)  development — a  triad  of  qualities.  (a) 
Organic  growth,  an  increase  in  the  amount  of  organised  linng- 
matter,  is  at  the  expense  of  materials  different  from  those  which 
compose  »the  growing  substance;  it  implies  active  assimilation 
rather  than  passive  accretion;  it  is  very  definitely  a  regulated 
process.  (b)  The  power  of  spontaneous  division — leading  on, 
directly  or  indirectly,  to  the  origin  of  new  individualities — is 
one  of  the  momentous  distinctions  between  the  living  and  the 
not-living,  (c)  Development  is  the  actualisation  of  the  intrinsic 
manifoldness  of  the  liberated  fragment,  sample,  or  cell,  and  may 
be  brought  into  line  with  the  process  of  repairing  the  specific 
organisation. 


104 


THE  CRITERIA  OF  LIVINGNESS 


Thirdly,  there  is  another  triad  of  qualities — (a)  effective  be- 
haviour, (b)  registration  of  experiences  and  experiments,  and  (c) 
variabihty.  The  common  note  here  is  agency,  self-expression, 
creativeness.  (a)  Behaviour,  exhibited  at  many  levels  and  in 
diverse  modes,  is  an  organically  determined  concatenated  series 
of  acts  converging  towards  a  definite  result.  Its  common  fea- 
tures are  correlation,  individuality,  and  purposiveness.  (b)  The 
effectiveness  which  characterises  organic  behaviour  depends  on 
the  organism's  power  of  profiting  by  experience  in  the  individ- 
ual lifetime,  or  on  the  entailed  results  of  ancestral  experiments 
(chiefly  perhaps  germinal  variations),  or,  usually,  on  both,  (c) 
The  crowning  attribute — and  the  most  elusive — is  variability,  the 
organism's  power — but,  more  accurately  perhaps,  the  germ-cell's 
power — of  giving  rise  to  something  distinctively  new. 


I 


LECTURE  IV. 
OKGANISM  A:NrD  MECHANISM. 


i 


LECTURE  IV. 
ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM. 

§  1.  Is  Organism  More  than  Mechanism?  §2.  Chemical  and 
Physical  Laws  apply  to  Organisms.  §  3.  Some  Difficulties  in 
the  Application  of  Physical  and  Chemical  Formulce  to  Organ- 
isms. §  4.  Criticism  of  Mechanistic  Descriptions  of  Everyday 
Functions.  §  5.  Criticism  of  Mechanistic  Descriptions  of 
Animal  Behaviour.  §  6.  Difficulty  of  Applying  Mechanistic 
Formulce  to  Development.  §  7.  Difficulty  of  Applying  Mecha- 
nistic Formula;  to  Organic  Evolution.  §  8.  Answers  to  Criti- 
cisms. 

§  1.    Is  Organism  More  than  Mechanism? 

According  to  Kirchhoff's  famous  definition  (1876),  the 
task  of  mechanics  is  ^'  to  describe  completely  and  in  the  sim- 
plest manner  the  motions  which  take  place  in  nature ". 
When  we  give  a  mechanical  description  of  an  occurrence 
— the  eruption  of  Vesuvius,  the  bursting  of  the  broom-pods, 
or  the  curling  of  the  non-living  tendrils  of  a  mermaid's  purse 
— it  is  in  terms  of  matter  and  motion,  or  in  chemico-phvsical 
terms  which  are  believed  to  be  reducible  to  those  of  matter 
and  motion.  The  mechanical  account  is  as  such  entirely 
satisfactory  when  it  enables  us  to  see  a  process  as  a  con- 
tinuous series  of  necessarily  concatenated  mechanical  opera- 
tions like  those  which  occur  in  the  slow  movement  of  a 
glacier,  or  like  the  successive  explosions  which  mark  the 
extension  of  a  rapidly  spreading  conflagration.  We  shall 
use  the  slightly  wider  term  mechanistic  to  include  cither  a 
matter-and-motion  description,  which  is  in  the  strict  sense 
mechanical,  or  a  more  dynamical  description  in  which  the 

107 


108  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

concept  of  energy  is  emphasised,  or  a  chemico-physical  de- 
scription which  is  ideally  mechanical,  that  is,  theoretically 
reducible  to  matter-and-motion  description,  though,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  the  reduction  may  not  have  been  as  yet  effected. 
A  mechanistic  description,  in  short,  is  in  terms  of  the  funda- 
mental concepts  of  physics  and  chemistry;  and  it  is  the 
most  precise  and  most  thorough  kind  of  description  that  is 
known. 

Given  three  good  observations  of  a  comet,  an  astronomer 
who  knows  his  business  can  prophesy  with  certainty  when, 
ban-ing  accidents,  it  will  return.  He  may  not  tell  us  what 
gravitation  means,  or  what  the  comet  is  made  of,  or  how 
it  arose,  or  what  it  portends  to  mankind,  but  of  the  com- 
ing and  going  he  gives  a  complete  account,  as  the  punctual 
return  of  the  comet  afterwards  proves.  E'ow  the  question 
which  interests  us  at  present  is  not  whether  the  biologist, 
if  he  knew  his  business  as  well  as  the  astronomer,  could 
tell  us  at  what  precise  date  next  spring  the  swallows  will 
reach  our  shores,  but  rather  whether  the  success  of  his  predic- 
tion depends  on  the  reduction  of  the  swallows'  behaviour 
to  mechanistic  formulation. 

The  question  may  be  split  into  two.  The  first  is:  How 
far,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  can  characteristically  vital  occur- 
rences, such  as  the  contraction  of  a  muscle,  be  described  in 
terms  of  the  formulae  which  serve  for  the  study  of  tides 
and  eclipses,  the  moulding  of  a  dew-drop  or  the  making  of 
a  star  ?  One  obvious  limit  is  that,  if  the  organism  has  mental- 
ity that  counts  in  its  agency,  then  the  behaviour  cannot  be 
completely  formulated  in  mechanical  terms.  Mind  cannot 
be  described  in  terms  of  matter,  or  emotion  in  terms  of  mo- 
tion. As  there  are  some  biologists,  such  as  Prof.  Jacques 
Loeb,  who  hold  "  a  tropisni  theory  of  animal  conduct  "  which 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  109 

does  not  recognise  mental  factors  as  vercc  causce  at  all,  and 
as  there  are  organisms  and  vital  activities  which  are  not 
known  to  have  any  mental  aspect,  w^e  shall  leave  this  limit 
to  mechanistic  description  for  future  consideration. 

So  the  first  question  is  whether,  mentality  apart,  there  are 
irreducible  peculiarities  in  vital  activities — peculiarities 
which  cannot  be  adequately  accounted  for  in  terms  of 
physico-chemical  or  ideally  mechanical  description  ?  Or  is 
the  usually  admitted  incompleteness  of  the  physico-chem- 
ical description  of,  let  us  say,  a  reflex  action  merely  tem- 
porary, and  likely  soon  to  disappear? 

The  second  question  is  a  little  different.  Of  the  move- 
ments of  the  heavenly  bodies  Gravitational  Astronomy  gives 
mechanical  descriptions  which  are  practically  exhaustive 
and  almost  perfectly  useful.  Now,  supposing  there  were 
available  a  complete  mechanical  account  of,  say,  the  open- 
ing of  a  Yucca  flower,  would  that  be  all  that  is  wanted  in 
Biology?  Would  light  have  been  thrown,  for  instance,  on 
the  fact  that  only  one  Yucca  flower  opens  on  each  plant 
each  evening,  that  the  flowers  begin  to  open  when  the  Yucca 
moths  begin  to  emerge  from  their  cocoons,  that  the  life  of 
the  flower  and  the  life  of  the  moth  are  closely  bound  up 
together,  so  that  the  one  without  the  other  is  not  made 
perfect?  The  Yucca  flower  and  the  Yucca  moth  are  or- 
ganisms with  a  history;  they  have  come  to  work  into  one 
another's  hands.  Are  their  adaptive  relations  only  different 
in  degree  from  the  dynamical  relations  between  Earth  and 
Moon,  or  must  we  admit  that  the  answers  to  distinctively 
biological  questions  do  not  follow  from  even  a  complete 
ledger  (were  that  available)  of  the  chemical  and  physical 
transactions  ? 


110 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 


§  2.    Chemical  and  Physical  Laws  apply  to  Organisms. 

The  apartness  of  living  creatures  v/as  stated  by  Kant  in 
a  famous  passage.  ^^  It  is  quite  certain  that  we  cannot  be- 
come sufficiently  acquainted  with  organised  creatures  and 
their  hidden  potentialities  by  aid  of  purely  mechanical 
natural  principles;  much  less  can  we  explain  them;  and 
this  is  so  certain,  that  we  may  boldly  assert  that  it  is  absurd 
for  man  even  to  conceive  such  an  idea,  or  to  hope  that  a 
Newton  may  one  day  arise  able  to  make  the  production 
of  a  blade  of  grass  comprehensible,  according  to  natural 
laws  ordained  by  no  intention;  such  an  insight  we  must 
absolutely  deny  to  man  "  (Teleological  Faculty  of  Judgment, 
§  74).  We  wonder  how  much  of  this  he  would  have 
written  had  he  known  the  bio-chemistry  and  bio-physics  of 
to-day. 

It  is  now  recognised  by  all — vitalists  included — that 
chemical  and  physical  laws  apply  to  living  creatures — ^to 
what  may  be  called  their  inorganic  aspect.  There  is  no 
confusion  of  '  categories  '  in  so  doing.  Chemically  regarded, 
the  living  creature  is  of  a  piece  with  its  surroundings ;  it 
contains  no  peculiar  elements.  The  most  essential  sub- 
stances, which  are  always  present,  are  proteins,  but  there 
is  nothing  rare  in  their  composition, — just  the  carbon, 
hydrogen,  oxygen,  nitrogen,  and  so  on  of  the  surrounding 
world.  The  peculiarity  of  proteins  is  in  the  complexity 
of  their  molecules,  which  consist  of  a  large  number  of 
atoms,  and  in  their  general  occurrence  in  a  colloid  state, 
which  has  very  important  physical  properties.  It  used  to 
be  thought  that  organic  substances  could  be  made  only  by 
the  direct  touch  of  life,  but  the  s^Tithctic  chemist  has  built 
up  samples  of  most  of  the  different  kinds  with  the  exception 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  ill 

of  natural  proteins.  Even  these  are  being  approached,  and 
their  synthesis  will  probably  be  effected  too. 

Chemically  regarded,  living  involves  a  complex  of  re- 
actions in,  or  associated  with  the  material  which  we  call 
^  protoplasm '  and  some  of  these  reactions  can  be  re- 
produced apart  from  the  organism  altogether.  There  are 
oxidations  and  reductions,  hydrations  and  de-hydrations, 
fermentings  and  so  on,  which  taken  separately  may  be 
mimicked  in  the  laboratory.  By  freezing  tissues,  grinding 
them  in  a  mortar,  and  thawing  and  filtering  the  result,  a 
non-living  material  can  be  obtained  in  which  some  chemical 
reactions  go  on.  These  can  be  studied  in  isolation,  and 
this  is  one  of  the  everyday  methods  of  bio-chemistry. 
Similarly,  chemical  laws  are  of  indispensable  assistance  in 
enabling  us  to  understand  how  the  blood  carries  oxygen  and 
carbon  dioxide  and  how  digestive  juices  change  the  food  in 
the  stomach. 

In  the  same  way  it  is  certain  that  well-known  physical 
processes  occur  in  the  living  body.  Capillarity  plays  some 
part  when  sap  ascends  in  a  tree,  and  evaporation  plays  some 
part  when  the  leaves  droop  in  the  summer  heat.  Surface- 
tension  is  illustrated  when  an  egg-cell  becomes  spherical, 
and  the  elasticity  of  connective  tissue  when  a  hen  turns 
suddenly  from  scanning  the  sky  to  inspect  a  minute  seed 
on  the  ground  at  her  feet.  We  illustrate  the  action  of  levers 
when  we  walk,  and  the  properties  of  lenses  when  an  image 
is  formed  on  our  retina.  All  physiologists  are  agreed  that, 
in  the  description  of  bodily  functions,  the  formulae  of 
chemistry  and  physics  carry  us  some  way. 

And  just  as  the  fundamental  chemical  fact,  that  no  in- 
crease or  decrease  of  matter  ever  occurs  in  a  closed  system, 
holds  true  for  the  living  body   and   its  environment,  so  it 


112  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

seems  to  be  with  the  conservation  of  energy.  An  animal, 
such  as  a  dog,  supposed  for  the  sake  of  simplicity  to  be  at 
rest,  takes  in  potential  energy  in  the  form  of  food,  and  takes 
in  oxygen  to  keep  the  vital  combustion  agoing.  It  uses  up 
the  energy  in  internal  activities : — the  heart  drives  the  blood 
round  the  body,  the  midriff  rises  and  falls,  the  lungs  empty 
and  fill,  and  so  on.  ISTow,  if  we  allow  for  the  potential 
energy  of  w-aste-products  and  storage-products,  we  find  that 
the  heat  given  off  is  in  accurate  correspondence  w^ith  the 
energy  taken  in.  The  accounts  balance.  The  invention 
known  as  a  calorimeter  made  it  possible  for  Rubner  to  dem- 
onstrate that  the  heat-energy  given  off  by  an  animal  during 
a  prolonged  experiment  was  the  equivalent  of  the  food  taken 
in,  with  a  discrepancy  of  only  0.5  per  cent.,  which  is  believed 
to  be  the  all  but  inevitable  discrepancy  due  to  the  conditions 
of  experiment.  There  was  a  smaller  discrepancy  (0.1  per 
cent.)  in  Atwater's  experiment  of  sixty-six  days  during 
which  his  students  worked  in  a  calorimeter.  When  they  re- 
mained at  rest,  the  discrepancy  disappeared.  It  is  plain, 
then,  that  the  living  of  the  animal  is  in  general  accordance 
with  the  big  generalisation — that  the  sum  total  of  energy 
in  a  closed  system  remains  constant.  One  mode  may  change 
into  another  mode,  but  no  energy  ceases  or  is  lost  in  the 
transformation. 

It  is  certain  that  a  chemical  and  physical  description 
can  be  given  of  much  that  goes  on  in  organisms,  and  this 
kind  of  description  will  certainly  extend  its  scope.  We  need 
only  refer  to  Professor  Bayliss's  Principles  of  Physiology 
as  a  fine  illustration  of  the  application  of  chemical  and 
physical  analysis  to  the  activities  of  the  living  body,  and  to 
Professor  D'Arcy  Thompson's  GroivtTi  and  Form  as  its 
counterpart  in  the  domain  of  morphology.    At  the  same  time 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  113 

it  is  important  to  notice  that  the  working  out  of  the  chemico- 
physical  description  of  vital  activity  is  not  altogether  plain 
sailing.     Let  us  illustrate. 

§  3.    Some  Difficulties  m  the  Application  of  Physical  and 
Chemical  Formulw  to  Organisms. 

It  is  a  general  fact  of  experience  that  the  rate  of  chemical 
reactions  is  accelerated  by  heat  and  retarded  by  cold.  The 
illustrious  chemist  Van't  Hoff  formulated  the  law  that  the 
rate  of  a  chemical  process  increases  in  geometric  progres- 
sion when  the  temperature  is  increased  in  algebraic  progres- 
sion. The  velocity  of  the  reaction  may  be  doubled  or  trebled 
by  a  rise  in  temperature  of  10°  C.  or  reduced  by  one-half 
or  more  by  a  fall  in  temperature  of  10  °  C.  Now  it  has  been 
observed  that  the  rate  of  heart-beat  of  various  animals,  so 
widely  separated  as  tortoise  and  water-flea,  is  reduced  to 
about  a  half  if  the  temperature  be  lowered  10°  C,  and  the 
same  holds  of  some  other  vital  processes.  Therefore  it  has 
been  hastily  concluded  that  the  chemical  processes  associ- 
ated with  vital  activities  follow  Van't  Hoff's  law  in  the  way 
they  vary  in  rate  with  changes  in  temperature.  But  it 
looks  as  if  the  conclusion  had  been  premature.  The  increase 
in  the  rate  of  development  of  the  eggs  of  the  plaice  is 
directly  proportional  to  the  increase  in  the  temperature 
within  the  limits  of  viability  (Dannevig,  Johansen,  Krogh)  ; 
it  does  not  illustrate  Van't  Hoff's  law.  In  certain  fishes,  in 
frogs,  water-beetles,  and  sea-urchins  the  Danish  physiologist 
Krogh  finds  that  the  relation  between  the  temperature  and 
the  rate  of  development  cannot  be  expressed,  even  approxi- 
mately, by  Van't  Hoff's  formula.  According  to  Krogh's  ex- 
periments on  frogs  and  goldfishes  and  some  other  animals, 
the  influence  of  temperature  on  the  '  standard  '  metabolism, 


114  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

of  which  the  absorption  of  oxygen  is  taken  as  an  index,  is 
regular  and  constant,  and  cannot  be  expressed  either  by 
Arrhenius's  foiTQula  or  by  the  rule  of  Van't  Hoff.  Ege 
and  Krogh  have  shown  that  Van't  Iloff's  rule  does  not  apply 
to  the  relation  between  temperature  and  the  respiratory 
exchange  in  goldfishes.  Indeed,  there  are  many  cases  where 
Van't  Hoff's  rule  does  not  seem  to  apply.  It  is  said  to  hold 
good  for  such  a  subtle  thing  as  the  rate  of  cell-division  in 
the  growing  point  of  a  root,  but  this  is  not  to  be  taken  as 
indicating  a  simple  chemical  process.  There  appears  to  be 
a  repertory  of  intricate  processes,  the  peculiarities  of  which 
are  mutually  neutralised. 

There  are  also  some  difficulties  in  regard  to  the  trans- 
formations of  energy  in  living  creatures  that  make  one  hesi- 
tate to  assert  dogmatically  that  conclusions  based  on  a  study 
of  the  inorganic  must  hold  true  for  organisms.  It  is  pos- 
sible, for  instance,  that  living  cells  may  act  selectively  in 
relation  to  the  molecules  that  bombard  them,  and  that  the 
organism  may  be  able  in  some  measure  to  evade  the  sec- 
ond law  of  thermodynamics. 

The  best  steam-engine  is  only  able  to  change  about  12 
per  cent,  of  its  income  of  potential  energy  into  work;  the 
animal  can  change  about  25  per  cent.,  and  is  therefore  from 
this  point  of  view  quite  remarkably  efficient.  Moreover, 
as  Professor  Soddy  points  out,  the  organism  has  a  capacity 
for  dealing  with  kinds  of  chemical  substances  which  cannot  be 
converted  by  inanimate  agencies  into  useful  forms  of  energy 
without  terrible  waste.  "  The  chemical  energy  of  food  suf- 
fers direct  transformation  into  work  without  first  being 
converted  into  heat." 

In  any  case  it  is  well  to  remember  that  while  there  is  a 
general,  and  for  certain  purposes  very  useful,  applicability 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  115 

of  chemical  and  physical  laws  to  the  activities  uf  organisms, 
there  are  also  in  organisms  novel  circumstances  which  seem 
to  alter  cases. 

In  this  connection,  the  Italian  physicist  and  mathema- 
tician Enriques  writes  (1914,  p.  376)  :  "  Only  a  few  general 
physical  relations,  persisting  through  all  varieties  of  condi- 
tions, are  found  to  be  verified  without  change  in  the  realm 
of  biology,  as,  for  example,  the  consei-vation  of  matter  and  of 
energy.  But  among  the  less  extended  laws  that  refer  to 
diffusion  or  osmosis  or  electric  conductivity,  etc.,  we  meet 
at  every  step  with  exceptions  and  apparent  contradictions." 
He  refers,  for  instance,  to  the  fish  known  as  the  Torpedo,  as 
^'  a  living  Leyden  jar  ",  and  says:  ''  While  the  functioning  of 
an  electrical  machine  is  so  easily  hindered  by  the  moisture 
of  the  insulator,  here  we  see  a  charge  which  is  not  lost  in 
the  watery  fluid  with  which  the  tissues  of  the  animal  are 
saturated.'^  The  living  cells  of  the  bladder  hinder  the  dif- 
fusion of  water : — ''  We  can  only  say  that  a  moist  tissue 
prevents  the  passage  of  water  hy  virtue  of  being  alive,  for 
it  loses  this  property  as  soon  as  death  has  taken  place." 
Enriques  also  refers  to  the  work  of  Galeotti,  who  has  sho\vn 
that  protoplasm  hinders  the  diffusion  of  certain  substances, 
and  in  certain  cases  offers  an  especial  resistance  to  the 
ions  moved  by  electro-motor  force.  It  may  be  said  that  these 
difficulties  are  due  to  the  particularly  complex  conditions. 
But  in  the  meantime  it  is  not  unscientific  to  state  that  the 
*  analytical  explanation  '  is  not  as  yet  forthcoming.  What 
is  gained  by  advancing  to  a  '  synthetic  explanation  ',  which 
starts  with  the  fact  of  life,  is  another  question  to  be  con- 
sidered later  on. 

So  far,  then,  our  conclusions  are,  (1)  that  many  chemical 
and  physical  processes  go  on  in  the  living  body  which   are 


116  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

quito  in  line  with  those  that  occur  in  conditions  apart  from 
living  creatures  altogether;  but  (2)  that  at  present,  without 
going  far,  we  are  met  by  certain  difficulties  which  suggest 
that  we  should  be  cautious  before  concluding  that  the  phy- 
sico-chemical re-descriptions  of  vital  events  are  adequate  or 
on  the  way  towards  adequacy.  It  is  certain  that  some  bodily 
occurrences  admit  of  mechanistic  description  and  that  this 
is  very  useful,  both  practically  and  theoretically.  Thus  the 
production  of  animal  heat,  which  was  a  riddle  to  the  old 
physiologists,  has  in  great  measure  been  accounted  for  just 
as  one  might  account  for  the  heat  in  a  basin  of  water  after 
electric  discharges  have  been  passed  through.  The  clearing 
up  of  this  problem  may  be  practically  useful  to  us  on  a  cold 
day  or  to  our  physician  if  we  are  fevered.  It  has  also  been 
theoretically  useful  in  the  science  of  physiology,  for  in- 
stance because  it  brought  into  prominence  the  more  intricate 
problem  of  the  regulation  of  the  body  temperature,  which 
does  not  seem  to  admit  at  present  of  mechanistic  solution. 
This  example  seems  to  us  to  be  typical.  Along  many  lines 
we  advance  so  far  with  mechanistic  formulation,  and  then 
we  are  suddenly  pulled  up.  Let  us,  then,  methodically  test 
the  mechanistic  descriptions  of  occurrences  in  the  realm 
of  organisms,  keeping  in  view  both  the  degree  of  complete- 
ness in  the  descriptions  and  their  relevancy  in  biological 
study.  It  will  conduce  to  clearness  if  we  omit  in  the  mean- 
time all  reference  to  conscious  control.  Let  us  consider  (1) 
the  everyday  functions  of  the  body,  (2)  animal  behaviour, 
(3)  development,  and  (4),  very  briefly,  evolution. 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  117 

§  4.    Criticis7n  of  Mechanistic  Descriptions  of  Everyday 

Functions, 

There  has  not  yet  been  given  any  physico-chemical  descrip- 
tion of  any  total  vital  operation.  Soon  after  the  establish- 
ment of  the  doctrine  of  the  conservation  of  energy,  about 
the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  there  was  a  remark- 
able mechanistic  boom.  The  impression  became  prevalent 
that  the  citadel  of  life  was  about  to  be  taken  by  storm. 
Nerves  were  like  wires  along  which  electricity  flowed;  the 
kidney  was  a  group  of  filters;  respiration  was  a  matter  of 
the  diffusion  of  gases;  the  passage  of  digested  food  from 
the  alimentary  canal  to  the  blood-vessels  was  a  process  of 
osmosis;  and  so  on. 

The  inevitable  reaction  followed ;  it  was  found  that  things 
were  not  so  simple  as  they  seemed.  The  physico-chemical 
descriptions  leave  out  a  good  deal — big  residual  facts  which 
seem  to  many  to  be  the  crucial  facts.  Dr.  J.  S.  Haldane 
writes :  "  The  application  to  physiology  of  new  physical 
and  chemical  methods  and  discoveries,  and  the  work  of 
generations  of  highly-trained  investigators,  have  resulted 
in  a  vast  increase  of  physiological  knowledge,  but  have  shown 
with  ever-increasing  clearness  that  physico-chemical  ex- 
planations of  elementary  physiological  processes  are  as  re- 
mote as  at  any  time  in  the  past,  and  that  they  seem  to 
physiologists  of  the  present  time  far  more  remote  than  they 
appeared  at  the  middle  of  last  century"  (1913,  p.  47). 

In  his  contribution  to  Life  and  Finite  Individuality 
(1918),  Dr.  J.  S.  Haldane  says  (p.  13)  :  "  I  need  only  refer 
to  such  activities  as  the  oxidative  processes  in  living  tissues, 
the  processes  of  secretion  and  absorption,  or  reflex  action. 
There  is  a  prevalent  idea  that  the  progress  of  chemistry. 


118  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

and  particularly  of  physical  chemistry,  has  furnished  ex- 
planations of  these  processes.  This  is  most  certainly  not 
the  case.  What  physical  chemistry  has  helped  us  to  do  is 
to  obtain  measures  of  the  processes  in  the  living  body;  but 
the  results  of  measurements  have  been  to  show  with  ever- 
increasing  clearness  that  the  processes  in  the  living  body 
do  not  correspond  with  our  conceptions  of  those  in  non- 
living structures,  and  that  we  are  not  remotely  in  sight  of 
mechanical  explanations  of  the  former. 

"  As  an  example,  I  need  only  take  the  case  of  the  exqui- 
sitely thin  and  delicate  living  membrance  which  separates  the 
blood  in  the  lung  capillaries  from  the  air  in  the  alveoli  or 
air-cells  of  the  lungs.  A  short  time  ago  it  was  assumed 
that  this  membrane  plays  only  a  passive  part  which  we 
regard  a  non-living  membrane  as  playing,  and  allows  oxygen 
to  diffuse  through  it  just  as  a  non-living  membrane  would. 
On  applying  accurate  methods  of  measurement  we  found 
that,  whenever  there  is  need  for  an  extra  supply  of  oxygen, 
as,  for  instance,  during  muscular  exertion,  the  membrane 
assumes  an  active  role  and  pushes  oxygen  inwards,  without 
regard  to  the  mechanical  laws  of  diffusion.  In  this  respect 
the  alveolar  epithelium  acts  just  like  the  epithelium  of  the 
swim-bladder,  or  that  of  the  kidney  or  any  other  gland,  or 
the  alimentary  canal.  The  progress  of  physical  chemistry 
is  enabling  us  to  distinguish  sharply  between  physiological 
activity  and  the  processes  occurring  in  non-living  structures ; 
and  the  establishment  of  the  distinction  is  sweeping  away 
the  easy-going  mechanistic  explanations  which  became  cur- 
rent during  the  latter  half  of  last  century."  '^  On  the  whole, 
there  is  no  evidence  of  real  progress  towards  a  mechanistic 
explanation  of  life." 

The  inadequacy  of  the  mechanical  description  is  apparent 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  119 

when  we  consider  any  function  in  its  totality.  There  is  a 
correlated  sequence  of  events,  and  it  is  the  correlation  that 
is  characteristic.  One  group  of  cells  has  not  only  to  do  its 
own  work,  but  has  to  keep  in  exact  co-ordination  with  the 
working  of  other  groups,  sometimes  at  a  distance.  It  goes 
without  saying  that  we  know  a  good  deal  about  this  internal 
regulation — we  do  not  expect  action  without  means — but  we 
cannot  give  a  complete  chemico-physical  account  of  it.  It  is 
sometimes  achieved  by  the  nervous  system,  sometimes  by  the 
blood,  sometimes  by  internal  secretions.  Dr.  J.  S.  Haldane 
points  out  that  '^  a  minute  and  scarcely  measurable  increase 
in  the  hydrogen  ion  concentration  of  the  blood  excites  the 
respiratory  centre  of  a  normal  warm-blooded  animal  to  in- 
tense activity.  Similar  minute  alterations  in  the  con- 
centration of  water,  or  sugar,  or  sodium  chloride,  or  hydro- 
gen ions,  have  a  corresponding  inJluence  on  the  secretory 
action  of  the  kidney."  It  might  be  thought  that  a  multi- 
plication of  items  of  facts  of  this  sort  would  eventually  give 
us  precisely  what  we  want — a  coherent  description  of  inte- 
gration. But  that  is  not  in  view  as  yet,  for  w^e  have  always 
to  unite  the  chemico-physical  facts  by  vital  links,  by  pos- 
tulating primary  properties  of  the  organism,  referred  to  in 
Lecture  III.,  which  remain  unreduced.  Unless  we  do  this 
we  cannot  explain  how  the  numerous  activities  work  in  a 
variable  way  into  one  another's  hands,  how  they  are  co- 
ordinated in  a  harmonious  result,  how  they  are  adjusted  in 
a  regulatory  fashion  to  the  changeful  environmental  con- 
ditions. 

The  temperature  of  a  furnace  depends  upon  the  amount 
of  thorough  combustion  that  can  be  made  to  take  place  with- 
in a  given  time,  and  on  the  arrangements  to  prevent  waste, 
and  so  on.     It  can  be  kept  from  exceeding  a  certain  limit,  if 


120  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

the  stoker  cease  to  stoke  or  if  the  draught  of  air  be  less- 
ened, or  in  other  ways.  Similarly,  the  temperature  of  the 
body  in  a  ^  warm-blooded '  animal  is  automatically  regu- 
lated to  a  nicety  so  that,  if  it  exceed  the  normal  even  by  a 
very  little,  we  know  that  something  is  seriously  wrong.  But 
there  are  great  differences  between  the  organism  and  the 
furnace.  Thus  in  the  organism  "  the  oxidation  does  not, 
like  ordinarv  chemical  oxidation,  increase  or  diminish  in 
proportion  to  the  varying  supply  of  oxygen  brought  to  the 
seat  of  oxidation,  but  is  controlled  by  living  cells  ". 

We  can  picture  a  complicated  series  of  mechanical  opera- 
tions with  here  and  there  an  intelligent  workman  who  is 
essential  because  what  is  required  is  like  very  intricate 
shunting — a  regulation,  an  adjustment,  a  co-ordination.  So 
is  it  with  the  organism.  We  can  give  a  chemico-physical 
account  of  isolated  processes,  but  we  cannot  give  a  connected 
description  of  the  whole  without  postulating  the  interven- 
tion of  living  cells.  Not  hypothetical  agents,  like  Clerk- 
MaxwelFs  ^'  sorting  demons,''  but  observable  living  cells  like 
Amoebae. 

Let  us  take  another  illustration.  T\nien  we  strike  a  match 
we  can  give  a  complete  chemico-physical  account  of  the  later 
phases  of  the  process,  apart,  that  is,  from  our  own  intention 
and  movement.  When  we  draw  back  our  finger  from  a  hot 
iron,  are  we  illustrating  more  than  a  very  complicated  form 
of  the  match's  response  to  the  friction  ?  According  to  Dr. 
J.  S.  Haldane,  we  are.  "  In  identifying  stimulus  and 
response  with  physical  or  chemical  cause  and  effect,  the 
mechanistic   theory   makes    a    gigantic   leap    in   the    dark." 

When  the  sun's  rays  passing  through  a  knot  in  a  roof-light 
set  fire  to  a  heap  of  cotton-waste  and  the  flames  spread  till 
they  reach  a  barrel  of  gunpowder,  which  explodes,  and  other 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  121 

things  happen,  there  is  a  chain  of  events  which  may  be  Ion"" 
or  short,  intricate  or  simple,  but  which  is  quite  clearly 
stateable  in  chemico-physical,  i.e.,  theoretically  mechanical, 
language.  But  it  is  otherwise  when  a  living  structure 
responds  to  a  stimulus.  "  There  is  in  reality  no  experi- 
mental evidence  whatsoever  that  the  process  can  be  under- 
stood as  one  of  physical  and  chemical  causation.  .  .  . 
When  we  attempt  to  trace  a  connection  we  are  lost  in  an 
indefinite  maze  of  complex  conditions,  out  of  which  the 
response  emerges"  (Ilaldanc,  1913,  p.  34).  A  very 
familiar  fact  is  that  the  same  stimulus  applied  to  two  ap- 
parently similar  animals  or  to  the  same  animal  at  different 
times  evokes  different  answers.  We  can  indeed  give  reasons 
for  this,  but  the  reasons  are  not  mechanical  reasons. 

Why  is  it  that  we  cannot  adequately  describe  the  life  of 
the  organism  in  terms  of  chemistry  and  physics?  Let  us 
take  an  answer  from  the  philosophical  physiologist,  already 
quoted.  Dr.  J.  S.  Haldane,  in  his  contribution  to  Life 
and  Finite  Individuality  (1918).  Because  the  organism 
"  forms  itself  and  keeps  itself  in  working  order  and  ac- 
tivity"  (p.  14),  and  "'the  idea  of  a  mechanism  which  is 
constantly  maintaining  or  reproducing  its  own  structure  is 
self-contradictory"  (p.  16).  ''Empirical  observations  with 
regard  to  the  behaviour  of  living  organisms  point  clearly 
to  the  conclusion  that  in  each  detail  of  organic  structure, 
composition,  environment,  and  activity  there  is  a  manifesta- 
tion or  expression  of  the  life  of  the  organism  regarded  as  a 
whole  which  tends  to  persist.  It  is  this  manifestation  which 
distinguishes  biological  phenomena;  and,  through  all  the 
temporary  variations  of  structure,  activity,  composition,  and 
environment,  it  can  be  traced  more  and  more  clearly  with 
every  year  of  advance  in  biological  investigation.     We  can 


122  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

trace  it  through  the  ordinary  metabolic  phenomena  in  living 
organisms,  as  well  as  through  the  phenomena  of  senescence, 
death,  and  reproduction"  (p.  21). 

The  everyday  life  of  any  common  animal  is  an  extraor- 
dinarily complex  affair.  "  For  what  is  a  creature  but  a 
great  and  well-disciplined  armj  with  battalions  which  we 
call  organs,  and  brigades  which  we  call  systems  ?  It  advances 
insurgently  from  day  to  day,  always  into  new  territory  of 
time  and  space — often  inhospitable  or  actively  unfriendly; 
it  holds  itself  together,  it  forages,  it  makes  good  its  ex- 
penditure of  explosives,  it  even  recruits  itself,  it  pitches  a 
camp  and  strikes  it  again,  it  goes  into  entrenchments  and 
winter-quarters,  it  retreats  and  lies  low,  it  recovers  itself,  it 
has  a  forced  march,  it  conquers  "  (Thomson,  Wonder  of  Life, 
1914,  p.  627).  What  the  biologist  wishes  is  not  merely 
a  complete  ledger  of  all  the  osmotic  and  capillary  proc- 
esses in  the  body,  all  the  oxidations  and  reductions,  all  the 
solutions  and  fermentations, — though  that  will  be  a  great 
achievement — he  wishes  a  description  of  the  organism's 
daily  march  which  Avill  not  ignore  the  correlated  organismal 
tactics  or  the  strategy-  which,  in  some  cases  at  least,  lies 
behind  these. 

§  5.    Criticism  of  Mechanistic  Descriptions  of  Animal 

Behaviour. 

Let  us  pass  from  the  everyday  functions  of  the  body 
to  a  connected  series  of  external  activities — to  animal  be- 
haviour, a  subject  to  which  we  shall  return  in  the  sixth 
lecture.  We  know  that  a  young  British-born  swallow  which 
leaves  us  for  the  south  towards  the  end  of  summer  may 
return  the  following  spring  to  the  parish,  even  to  the  farm- 
steading,  of  its  birth, — moved,  who  shall  say  by  what  deep 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  123 

compelling  constitutional  homesickness.  Professor  Yung  of 
Geneva  took  twenty  bees  from  a  hive  near  the  lake,  put  them 
into  a  box,  and  carried  them  six  kilometres  into  the  coun- 
try, where  he  set  them  free.  Seventeen  returned  to  the  hive, 
some  of  them  in  an  hour. 

The  fresh-water  mussel  carries  her  young  ones  in  her  outer 
gill  plate,  and  keeps  them  there,  even  long  after  they  are 
ready  to  emerge,  until  a  stickleback  or  a  minnow  comes  into 
the  immediate  vicinity.  When  the  fish  comes  near,  the 
mother-mussel,  whom  it  is  no  libel  to  call  *  acephalous ', 
liberates  a  crowd  of  the  pinhead-like  larvae,  which  swim  out 
into  the  water,  snapping  their  tiny  toothed  valves,  and 
secreting  viscid  attaching  threads.  They  have  the  begin- 
nings of  a  nervous  system ;  they  are  sensitised  to  some 
stimulus  from  the  fish;  they  fasten  on  to  it  and  begin  an- 
other chapter  of  their  life.  Even  in  the  laboratory,  when 
they  have  been  removed  from  the  mother,  they  become  ex- 
traordinarily excited  if  a  morsel  of  minnow  be  dropped  into 
the  dish  in  which  they  are.  They  respond  definitely  to  the 
only  stimulus  which  will  enable  them  to  continue  their  life. 
In  some  North  American  fresh-water  mussels  only  one  par- 
ticular kind  of  fish  will  serve  the  purpose  of  temporary  host. 

In  the  remarkable  life-history  of  the  liver-fluke  of  the 
sheep,  microscopic  ciliated  larvae  emerge  from  egg-cases 
which  have  fallen  into  w^ater.  These  larvse  have  no  organs 
in  the  strict  sense,  no  hint  of  a  nervous  system,  and  only  a 
few  cells  altogether.  They  have  energy  enough  to  go  on 
swimming  for  about  a  day  in  the  water-pool.  They  may 
come  in  contact  with  many  things,  sticks  and  straws,  roots 
of  aquatic  plants  and  various  aquatic  animals,  but  there  is 
(in  Britain)  only  one  touch  to  which  they  respond — that 
of  the  small  fresh-water  snail,  Limncea  truncatula,  the  only 


124  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

host  that  will  enable  them  to  continue  their  life-history. 
When  they  touch  the  mollusc  they  work  their  way  into  it  and 
exhibit  a  remarkable  succession  of  multiplications  and  meta- 
morphoses. The  point  is  that  a  minute,  brainless  creature 
responds  at  once  to  the  one  stimulus  which  will  enable  it 
to  continue  its  life. 

These   instances   have  been  taken   from   different  levels: 
the  swallow  is  very  intelligent  and  yet  instinctive,  the  bee 
is  very  instinctive  and  yet  intelligent,  the  larval  mussel  has 
just  the  beginnings  of  a  nervous  system,   the  larval  fluke 
has  none.     Our  point  is  that  we  can  find  objectively  analo- 
gous kinds  of  behaviour  at  all  levels  of  nervous  organisation, 
and  that  we  have  to  do  with  a  general  capacity  of  living 
creatures — the   capacity    of   enregistering   past   experiences 
and  experiments,  either  individual  or  racial,  so  that  present 
behaviour  is  influenced  by    them    in    very    specific    ways. 
There  are  several  characteristic  features  in  behaviour  which 
appear  to  be  beyond   all  mechanical   description.      The  be- 
haviour is  made  up  of  a  succession  of  acts  which  are  cor- 
related in  a  particular  sequence.     At  any  one  moment  there 
are  chemical  and  physical  processes  going  on,  about  which 
we  know  or  may  know  a  good  deal,  but  it  is  the  bond  of 
union  that  eludes  the  chemist  and  physicist.     To  take  items 
in  the  process  and  reduce  them  (as  far  as  we  can)  to  physi- 
cal and  chemical  common  denominators  is  interesting  in  its 
way,  and  for  certain  purposes  useful,  but  it  does  not  make 
any  clearer  the  interlinking,  the  co-ordination,   of  all  the 
items  in  a  piece  of  behaviour.     When  we  consider  the  larval 
liver-fluke  arrested  by  contact  with  the  fresh-water  snail — 
with  a  particular  species  of  water-snail,  or  the  larval  mussel 
arrested  by  the  proximity  of  a  minnow,  or  a  stickleback,  or, 
it  may  be,  by  one  and  only  one  particular  species  of  fish, 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  125 

we  are  face  to  face  with  a  common  and  characteristic  fea- 
ture in  animal  behaviour,  that  the  creature  is  historically 
tuned  to  be  a  receptor  of  a  unique  but  absolutely  indispen- 
sable stimulus  which  may  not  occur  more  than  once  in  the 
life-history.  We  may  find  perhaps  some  analogies  to  this 
in  the  inorganic  world — from  our  point  of  view  it  would 
be  strange  if  there  were  not — but  it  is  supra-mechanical. 
By  which  we  mean  that  it  requires  other  than  mechanical 
concepts  for  its  formulation — especially  the  concept  of  the 
organism  as  a  historic  being. 

Sometimes,  it  must  be  confessed,  even  the  postulate  of 
historic  enregistering  does  not  help  us  very  much  as  yet, 
witness  the  well-known  riddle  of  the  homing  of  birds.  Prof. 
J.  B.  Watson  and  Dr.  K.  S.  Lashley  took  four  nesting  teras 
(two  '  noddies  '  and  two  ^  sooties  ')  from  Bird  I^ey  in  the 
Tortugas  to  Havana,  108  miles  off,  and  liberated  them  in 
the  harbour  there.  They  were  back  at  Bird  Key  next  day, 
having  probably  spent  most  of  the  time  recuperating  around 
the  shores  of  Cuba.  Of  five  birds  liberated  off  Cape  Hat- 
teras,  in  waters  which  these  terns  never  visit,  for  Bird  Key 
is  the  northern  limit  of  their  migratory  range,  at  least  three 
returned  to  their  nests  in  a  few  days,  having  accomplished 
a  journey  of  850  miles  as  the  crow  flies,  and  of  much  more 
if  the  alongshore  route  was  followed.  Four  noddies  and  four 
sooties  were  taken  in  a  hooded  cage  on  a  Galveston  steamer 
and  liberated  at  a  point  in  the  middle  of  the  Gulf  of  Mex- 
ico, 461  statute  miles  from  home,  and  out  of  sight  of  every- 
thing. On  release,  all  birds,  with  one  exception,  started  east- 
wards. That  one  headed  westwards  and  continued  for  about 
200  yards,  then  turned  suddenly  towards  the  cast.  The 
birds  had  a  strong  head  wind  against  them  thronghout  the 
first  day,  but  two  of  them  returned  to  their  nests  in  safety 


126  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

across  the  waste  of  seas.  This  seems  to  us  so  different  from 
the  return  of  the  boomerang  to  the  thrower's  hand  that  we 
venture  to  call  it  different  in  kind. 

When  we  are  dealing  with  higher  animals,  presumably 
with  conscious  processes  analogous  to  our  own,  the  contrast 
with  a  mechanism  stands  out  even  more  clearly.  An  engine 
overcomes  hindrances,  force  against  force,  but  it  has  no 
resource,  no  alternatives,  no  tactics.  But  an  organism  with 
a  mind  at  work,  a  conscious  organism,  is  different  in  its 
relation  to  hindrances.  As  Dr.  J.  S.  Haldane  says,  ^'  It 
is  aware  of,  and  avoids,  neutralises,  or  even  takes  advantage 
of  them.  It  adapts  its  behaviour  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
maintain  itself  in  the  presence  of  what  is  outside  the  mere 
organic  unity  of  its  life.  But  in  so  doing  the  organism 
shows  itself  to  be  more  than  a  mere  organism ;  it  includes 
within  the  unity  of  its  life  what  seemed  to  be  independent " 
(Life  and  Finite  Individuality,  p.  23). 

§  6.    Difficulty  of  Applying  Mechanistic  Formulce  to 

Development. 

Our  third  test  of  mechanistic  interpretation  is  with  regard 
to  development.  When  we  watch  a  transparent  marine 
animal,  such  as  one  of  the  Salps,  we  can  see  the  movements 
of  internal  parts — the  beating  of  the  heart,  for  instance — 
and  though  what  we  see  is  not  like  anything  in  inorganic 
nature,  we  are  reminded  of  a  smoothly-working  machine 
like  a  chronometer.  On  the  other  hand,  when  we  have  the 
good  fortune  to  observe  a  development  actually  going  on  in 
perfect  translucency,  for  instance  in  the  e^g  of  the  moth 
Botys  hyalinalis,  our  unprejudiced  impression  must  surely 
be,  that  this  is  very  far  away  from  anything  mechanical, 
that  it  is  in  fact  very  unlike  anything  else  in  the  world. 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  127 

When  we  take  the  most  familiar  case  of  all,  the  development 
of  the  chick  in  the  course  of  twenty-one  days  from  a  miinite 
drop  of  living  matter  lying  on  the  top  of  the  yolk — the 
gradual  emergence  of  the  obviously  complex  from  the  ap- 
parently simple — we  feel  how  true  it  is  still,  what  Harvey 
wrote  three  centuries  ago: — ^'Neither  the  schools  of  physi- 
cians nor  Aristotle's  discerning  brain  have  disclosed  the  man- 
ner how  the  cock  and  its  seed  doth  mint  and  coin  the  chicken 
out  of  the  egg."  It  is  not  surprising  that  the  facts  of  genera- 
tion and  development  have  often  led  naturalists  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  categories  of  mechanism  fall  short  in  the 
domain  of  the  organic.  What  particular  facts  of  devel- 
opment seem  to  require  more  than  mechanical  description  ? 
There  is  the  condensation  of  the  inheritance  into  the  micro- 
scopically minute  germ-cell — an  extraordinary  telescoping  of 
individuality,  of  which  we  can  form  no  image.  It  is  quite 
true  that  there  is  within  egg-cells  a  demonstrable  complexity 
of  organisation  far  greater  than  used  to  be  supposed,  that 
the  nucleus  is  a  little  world  in  itself,  that  there  is  a 
growing  knowledge  of  extremely  minute,  yet  often  distinc- 
tive, organ-forming  plastosomes  in  the  cytoplasm  of  the  eggy 
that  the  artificial  removal  of  part  of  the  egg-cell  is  sometimes, 
as  in  Ascidians,  followed  by  the  non-development  of  a  partic- 
ular structure  in  the  embryo,  and  so  on.  More  and  more 
we  are  coming  to  see  in  the  germ-cell  an  implicit  individ- 
uality with  complex  and  specific  organisation.  But  no  sooner 
have  we  got  this  idea  clearly  focused  in  the  mind  than  we 
are  confronted  with  such  facts  as  those  of  merogony,  that 
a  fragment  of  an  egg-cell  is  able  to  develop  into  a  nonnal 
embryo.  It  may  be  an  argumentum  ad  ignorantiam,  but 
if  it  be  held,  as  the  mechanists  hold,  that  the  egg-cell  is 
completely  describable  as  a  chemico-physical  mechanism  of 


128  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

great  complexity,  it  is  not  unfair  to  recall  some  of  the  dif- 
ficultieS; — that  the  supposed  mechanism  has  to  form  in 
fertilisation  a  working  unity  with  another  mechanism  as 
complex  as  itself;  that  it  has  thereafter  to  divide  over  and 
over  again;  that  a  part  is  sometimes  as  good  as  a  whole; 
and  so  on.  It  is  sometimes  easy  to  get  twins  from  one  egg 
hy  shaking  the  first  two  cleavage-cells  apart,  and  even  at 
the  four-cell  stage  of  the  lancelet's  development  the  same 
method  may  result  in  quadruplets.  It  almost  seems  as  if  we 
here  reached  a  Euclidean  reductio  ad  ahsurdum  of  a  mecha- 
nistic interpretation. 

The  central  problem  of  development  is  differentiation, 
and  the  biological  study  of  this  is  not  more  than  incipient. 
We  cannot  even  elucidate  the  fact  that  the  two  cells  into 
which  a  germ-cell  divides  are  sometimes  exactly  alike  and 
sometimes  distinctly  different.  Out  of  apparent  simplicity 
there  gradually  emerges  obvious  complexity.  As  Roux  puts 
it,  there  is  a  self-manifestation  of  intrinsic  manifoldness. 
AYhat  was  a  clear  drop  a  few  hours  ago  is  now  a  manifest 
organism  with  nerve  and  sense-organ,  food-canal  and  muscle. 
It  is  the  most  wonderful  thing  in  the  world.  Sometimes  the 
whole  scene  has  changed  when  we  return  to  observation 
after  the  interruption  of  an  hour's  lecture.  Be  it  under- 
stood that  no  theory  explains  it,  but  while  the  biological 
interpretation  may  try  with  some  success  to  bring  devel- 
opment into  line  with,  say,  the  organism's  characteristic  self- 
repairing  activity,  the  mechanistic  interpretation  has  not 
yet  begun  its  task.  It  is  a  mere  impious  opinion  that  devel- 
opment will  one  day  be  described  in  terms  of  mechanics. 

Another  prominent  fact  in  development  is  its  regulated- 
ness  or  correlation.  Driesch  and  others  have  directed  at- 
tention to  the  power  the  embryo  often  shows  of  righting  it- 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  129 

self  after  the  building  materials  of  its  edifice  have  been 
artificially  disarranged,  of  re-adjusting  itself  after  the 
proportions  have  been  artificially  disturbed.  A  fertilised 
egg-cell  frequently  divides  into  a  ball  of  cells  like  a  micro- 
scopic mulberry  fruit;  the  constituents  of  this  ball  may  be 
disarranged  and  the  ball  pressed  out  of  shape  between  two 
glass  plates ;  yet  if  the  interference  be  not  too  prolonged, 
the  developing  embryo  may  right  itself  and  develop  nor- 
mally. Can  we  think  of  a  machine  which  is  practically  unaf- 
fected if  we  cut  off  half  of  it,  or  which,  being  scrapped, 
patiently  re-arranges  its  parts  and  begins  over  again ! 

If  the  developing  organism  is  in  its  behaviour  '  cona- 
tional  '- — that  is  to  say,  on  the  way  to  being  '  purposeful ' — 
the  difference  between  it  and  a  developing  sidereal  system  is 
great.  But  what  grain  of  evidence  is  there  of  this  ^  cona- 
tional '  element  ?  Not  perhaps  very  much  when  we  confine 
our  attention  to  normal  embryonic  stages,  where  one  phase 
appears  to  be  the  natural  and  necessary  outcome  of  its  ante- 
cedent. But  we  get  another  impression  when  we  consider 
some  of  Driesch's  cases  of  self-regulation  and  of  re-adjust- 
ment after  profound  dislocation. 

Whatever  we  make  of  it,  one  of  the  marvels  of  devel- 
opment is  the  manner  in  which  separate  parts  are  often 
correlated,  as  it  were  conspiring  together  towards  some  fu- 
ture result.  In  the  making  of  the  Vertebrate  eye,  an  outgrowth 
from  the  brain  forms  the  retinal  cup,  an  independent  in- 
growth from  the  skin  forms  the  lens,  some  mesoderm  cells 
migrate  into  the  interior  to  form  the  vitreous  humour,  others 
combine  to  form  the  protective  envelopes,  and  so  on.  Strange 
anticipations  of  coming  events   are  well  known   to  embry- 

ologists. 

In  a  trivial  detail,   such  as  the  making  of  the  silk-like 


130  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

threads  composing  the  skeleton  of  the  common  bath  sponge, 
large  numbers  of  secretory  cells  called  '  spongoblasts  '  group 
themselves  in  double  file  every  here  and  there  through- 
out the  middle  stratum  of  the  sponge,  as  if  some  unseen 
captain  marshalled  them.  Up  the  middle  of  the  double  file 
the  spongin  is  secreted,  made  at  the  expense  of  the  living 
matter  of  the  spongoblasts,  and  the  many  individual  contri- 
butions coalesce  into  a  spongin-fibre. 

In  his  Science  and  Philosophy  of  the  Organism  (1908), 
Driesch  has  with  unexampled  thoroughness  and  subtlety 
tested  the  possibilities  of  mechanistic  description  with 
particular  reference  to  the  facts  of  development.  He  reaches 
a  conclusion  of  the  first  importance : — ''  'No  kind  of  causality 
based  upon  the  constellations  of  single  physical  and  chemical 
acts  can  account  for  organic  individual  development;  this 
development  is  not  to  be  explained  by  any  hypothesis  about 
configuration  of  physical  and  chemical  agents.  .  .  .  Life, 
at  least  morphogenesis,  is  not  a  specialised  arrangement 
of  inorganic  events;  biology,  therefore,  is  not  applied 
physics  and  chemistry;  life  is  something  apart,  and  bi- 
ology is  an  independent  science.''  But  what,  it  may  be  said, 
of  the  science  of  ^  developmental  mechanics '  and  of  the 
lengthening  row  of  volumes  entitled  Archiv  fur  EntwicJc- 
lungsmechanik?  The  first  answer  is,  that,  after  all,  the 
developing  embryo  is  a  material  system,  and  must  exhibit 
chemical  and  physical  means.  Development  shows  a  continu- 
ous action  and  reaction  between  an  implicit  organisation  and 
the  environing  conditions,  and  ^  developmental  mechanics  ' 
so-called  is  in  great  part  concerned  with  discovering  the 
correlation  between  steps  in  development  and  their  ap- 
propriate external  stimulation  and  nurture.  These  cor- 
relations are  of  great  interest,  but  as  our  knowledge  of  them 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  131 

increases  we  do  not  get  appreciably  nearer  a  mechanical 
description  of  development.  We  do,  however,  recognise  more 
and  more  that  physical  and  chemical  processes  are  in  evi- 
dence. 

The  second  answer  is  that  the  word  mechanical  is  some- 
times applied  illegitimately  to  a  systematic  or  connected 
account  which  displays  a  series  of  events  in  causal  coherence 
without  the  intervention  of  mentality.  Given  certain  prop- 
erties of  organisms  in  general,  of  nerve-cells  and  muscle- 
fibres  in  particular,  we  may  give  a  more  or  less  connected 
and  complete  account  of  a  reflex  action  without  dragging 
in  any  psychical  agency.  But  this  should  not  be  called  a 
mechanical  description.  It  is  simply,  what  it  pretends  to  be, 
a  physiological  or  biological  description,  and  it  implies 
various  non-mechanical  concepts.  Similarly,  given  the 
organism's  power  of  registration  and  of  persistently  re- 
producing its  specific  organisation,  given  the  cell's  mysteri- 
ous power  of  dividing — of  dividing  now  into  similar,  and 
again  into  dissimilar  halves,  given  the  capacity  of  utilising 
nurtural  stimuli  to  educe  the  inherent  manifoldness  of  the 
germ,  and  so  forth,  we  can  make  a  show  of  discovering  the 
connectedness  and  inevitableness  of  the  successive  stages  in 
development.  But  we  cannot  without  abuse  of  terms  speak 
of  this  as  a  mechanical  description. 

§  7.    Difficulty  of  Applying  Mechanistic  Fommlce  to 

Organic  Evolution'. 

As  a  fourth  test  of  the  adequacy  of  mechanistic  description 
in  the  realm  of  organisms,  we  may  refer  very  briefly  to 
evolution,  which  will  engage  our  attention  in  detail  by  and 
by.  Such  phrases  as  '  cosmic  evolution  '  and  '  inorganic 
evolution '  are  apt  to  suggest  the  mistaken  idea  that  organic 


132  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

evolution  is  simply  a  continuation  of  a  historical  inorganic 
process  of  increasing  differentiation  and  heterogeneity.  It 
may  be  continuous  with  it,  but  it  is  not  a  continuation  of 
it,  any  more  than  the  evolution  of  human  societary  forms 
is  a  continuation  of  the  evolution  of  mammals.  The  issues 
changed  when  organisms  began,  and  again  when  man  began. 
Moreover,  what  is  called,  for  instance,  the  evolution  of 
the  solar  system  should  rather  be  called  the  development 
of  the  solar  system,  since  it  is  the  differentiation  of  one 
mass  into  explicit  manifoldness.  The  originative  nebula 
or  whirling  mass  of  planetesimals  is  comparable  to  a  great 
world-egg,  to  borrow  Hume's  phrase,  and  we  may  think  of 
it  as  developing  into  several  embryos,  as  eggs  sometimes  do. 
But,  so  far  as  we  know,  there  was  no  struggle  between  the 
various  planets,  or  between  them  and  their  environmental 
limitations.  There  was  no  sifting  process  which  eliminated 
some  and  left  others  surviving.  Whether  we  speak  of  the 
history,  or  differentiation,  or  development,  or  evolution  of 
the  solar  system,  we  must  recognise  that  it  was  a  very  dif- 
ferent process  from  organic  evolution.  In  the  former  there 
were  no  alternatives,  no  trial-and-error  methods.  There 
was  nothing  comparable  to  the  staking  of  individual  lives 
and  losing  them  which  is  characteristic  of  that  sublime  ad- 
venture which  we  call  organic  evolution.  The  theory  of 
organic  evolution  starts  with  the  assumption  of  variability, 
which  transcends  mechanical  interpretation  and  is  perhaps 
least  obscure  at  present  when  we  think  of  it  most  anthropo- 
morphically  as  experimenting  in  self-expression.  Moreover, 
the  organism  is  in  some  measure  a  genuine  agent  even  in 
the  process  of  natural  selection.  It  is  often  anything  but 
a  passive  pawn.  It  does  not  simply  submit  to  the  apparently 
inevitable.     It  often  evades  its  fate  by  a  change  of  habit 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  133 

or  of  environment;  it  compromises,  it  experiments,  it  is  full 
of  device  and  endeavour.  The  evolving  organism  is  a  his- 
torical psycho-physical  being,  an  agency  trading  with  time; 
and  the  humblest  creatures  are  in  their  mutations  creative. 
Such  mechanical  description  as  is  possible  leaves  the  essential 
features  undescribed. 

IN   CONCLUSION. 

The  result  of  our  consideration  is  that  while  mechanical 
description  has  its  place  and  utility  in  the  organic  domain, 
it  is  inadequate  to  cover  the  characteristic  facts  of  everyday 
functioning,  of  animal  behaviour,  of  individual  development, 
and  of  racial  evolution.  For  all  these  demand  other  than 
mechanical  concepts. 

Our  study  has  led  us  away  from  the  view  that  there  is 
only  one  science  of  nature,  consisting  of  precise  chemico- 
physical  descriptions  which  have  been,  or  are  in  process 
of  being,  summed  up  in  mechanical  or  mathematical  terms. 
As  it  seems  to  us,  there  is  greater  utility  and  accuracy  in 
frankly  recognising  successive  orders  of  facts,  each  with 
its  dominant  categories.  There  is  the  domain  of  the  inor- 
ganic, the  physico-chemical  order,  vv'here  mechanism  perhaps 
has  it  all  its  o^vn  way.  There  is  the  realm  of  organisms, 
the  biological  order,  where  mechanism  is  checkmated  by 
organism.  There  is  the  kingdom  of  man,  the  social  order, 
where  mechanism  is  transcended  and  personality  reigns. 
Another  grouping  would  be  inorganic,  animate,  and  psychi- 
cal, but  we  wish  to  emphasise  the  apartness  of  man  which 
has  been  obscured  by  the  Darwinian  theory — true  as  that  is. 

These  orders,  which  we  separate  that  we  may  conquer 
them  scientifically,  do  as  a  matter  of  fact  overlap.  The 
inorganic  overlaps  the  organic,  for  organisms  are  material 


134  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

systems,  and  their  living  implies  a  concatenation  of  chemico- 
physical  processes.  But  organisms  require  a  science  for 
themselves.  The  organic  overlaps  the  human,  for  Man  is 
affiliated  to  mammals,  and  his  personality  is  tethered  to 
protoplasm.  But  Man  requires  a  science  for  himself.  Or, 
if  one  prefers  it,  the  organic  overlaps  the  psychical,  since 
the  mind  has  a  body,  so  to  speak,  and  the  spirit  works  in 
part  through  the  flesh.  And,  looking  in  the  other  direction, 
who  can  be  quite  sure  that  the  domain  of  the  inorganic  is 
as  thoroughly  exhausted  by  mechanical  formulation  as  is 
usually  supposed  ? 

The  important  point  is  that  the  sciences  are  differentiated 
not  merely  by  their  subject-matter,  but  by  their  character- 
istic questions  and  methods  and  concepts.  In  this  sense  we 
claim  autonomy  for  biology. 

In  so  doing  we  are  not  in  the  least  weakening  the  hope 
and  endeavour  that  biology  may  approximate  more  closely 
to  the  position  of  an  ^  exact  science '.  Our  sole  proviso  is 
that  this  is  not  to  be  attained  by  the  naive  device  of  leaving 
life  out.  The  honourable  rank  of  exactness  is  not  to  be 
allowed  to  remain  the  prerogative  of  sciences  which  deal 
with  processes  that  can  be  described  "  by  aid  of  elementary 
corpuscles  having  ideal  motions  ''.  It  may  be  attained  by 
all  sciences  that  have  resolutely  begun  to  ^  measure ',  in- 
cluding in  ^  measurement '  every  form  of  precise  registra- 
tion. Thus  not  a  little  of  modem  psychology  is  very  exact, 
although  a  description  of  its  subject-matter  in  terms  of  ideal 
motions  is  certainly  not  its  end !  Biology  is  inexact  com- 
pared with  gravitational  astronomy,  partly  because  there 
have  been  more  first-class  minds  among  the  astronomers  than 
among  the  biologists,  partly  because  in  biology  we  deal  with 
phenomena  which  are  more  difficult  to  measure  than  those  with 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  135 

which  astronomy  deals,  but  main-ly  because  biology  has  to 
deal  with  individualities  which  are  variable  and  spontaneous, 
always  to  some  extent  unpredictable.  It  must  be  granted, 
however,  that  there  has  been  a  strong  modern  movement 
towards  exactness  even  in  the  most  difficult  departments  of 
biology.  There  has  been  for  a  long  time  much  exact  science 
in  comparative  anatomy  and  comparative  physiology,  but 
the  recent  labours  of  the  biometricians  on  the  one  hand,  and 
of  the  experimenters  in  genetics  on  the  other,  have  already 
done  much  to  bring  the  study  of  evolution  problems  nearer 
the  ideal  of  exact  science.  In  fact,  as  has  been  sagaciously 
pointed  out,  biology  has  already  become  a  science  to  a 
degree  that  Kant  deemed  impossible,  and  this  achievement 
helps  to  keep  the  biologist  from  admitting  the  validity  of 
Kant's  view  that  there  is  only  one  science  of  Nature. 

§  8.    Answers  to  Criticisms. 

Our  argument  may  perhaps  be  strengthened  by  meeting 
some  criticisms  brought  against  what  may  be  called  the  bio- 
logical position. 

(a)  It  has  been  suggested  that  those  who  think  that  vital 
phenomena  require  special  biological  categories  are  under- 
rating what  physico-chemical  material  systems  can  do. 
"  Many  a  machine  is  constructed  to  oil  itself  the  more  copi- 
ously when  it  works  the  faster,  and  the  printing-press,  as 
we  urge  it  to  put  out  more  newspapers  on  the  one  side, 
pulls  in  more  blank  paper  on  the  other  "  (D'Arcy  W.  Thomp- 
son, Life  and  Finite  Individuality,  p.  37).  Now  there  is 
undoubted  utility  in  comparing  a  living  creature  with  a 
machine,  especially  a  machine  with  automatic  regulatory 
arrangements.  Both  are  systems  effecting  the  transforma- 
tion of  matter  and  energy;  both  illustrate  the  co-operation 


130  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

of  many  parts  to  an  effective  result.  But  the  living  creature 
is  always  working,  even  in  dying,  towards  its  own  preserva- 
tion; it  can  adjust  its  activity  to  varying  needs  and  cir- 
cumstances ;  it  can  rest  and  begin  again ;  in  normal  conditions 
it  can  give  rise  to  another  organism  with  activities  like  its 
own.  The  explicit  organism  develops  in  appropriate  condi- 
tions from  the  implicit  organism  or  germ-cell ;  if  disturbed 
it  can  re-arrange  itself;  if  it  loses  a  part  it  can  replace  it; 
if  it  is  broken  into  fragments  it  can  sometimes  reconstruct 
its  living  edifice. 

(h)  Those  who  claim  autonomy  for  biology  are  sometimes 
rebuked  by  a  reference  to  the  music  of  the  spheres.  We  are 
told  that  '^  in  [N'ature  herself,  if  we  look  at  her  larger  handi- 
w^ork,  self -regulation  and  self-maintenance  become  paramount 
attributes  and  characteristics  of  her  machines.  The  solar 
system,  qua  mechanism,  is  the  perfect  specimen,  the  very 
type  and  norm,  of  a  self-maintaining,  self-regulating  mecha- 
nism ;  and  so  also,  grade  after  grade,  are  its  dependent 
mechanisms,  such  as  the  world-wide  currents  of  the  atmos- 
phere and  of  the  sea  ''  (D'Arcy  W.  Thompson,  Life  and 
Finite  Individuality,  p.  37). 

The  order  and  balance  of  T^ature's  larger  handiwork 
must  indeed  be  recognised  and  admired.  The  same  laws 
that  are  used  in  formulating  cosmic  architecture  and  reg- 
ularity may  be  usefully  employed,  as  we  have  admitted,  in 
the  realms  of  organisms.  But  our  point  is  that  the  animalcule 
is  in  a  way  greater  than  all  the  stars,  as  stars,  for  it  is  an 
agent,  it  has  alternatives,  it  shows  experimental  indetermin- 
ism,  it  commands  its  course.  And  when  this  began  it  was 
something  new  in  the  world. 

(c)  But  where,  precisely,  it  is  asked,  does  the  mechanis- 
tic description  fail?     The  answer  is  twofold,   that   as  yet 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  137 

it  fails  all  along  the  line  in  thoroughness  of  description, 
and  that  it  does  not  give  us  the  kind  of  answer  that  as 
biologists  we  want.  No  student  of  science  could  have  any- 
thing but  delight  in  learning  that  the  contraction  of  a  niiKscU-, 
or  a  reflex  action,  or  the  movements  of  an  Amoeba  had  been 
satisfactorily  described  in  terms  of  chemistry  and  physics. 
But  it  has  not  been  done  as  yet  in  the  case  of  any  single 
vital  activity.  Diffusion  plays  its  part  in  the  interchange  of 
gases  in  the  lungs,  but  the  lining  epithelium  of  the  air-sacs  be- 
haves, Dr.  J.  S.  Haldane  tells  us,  in  a  way  which  modifies 
diffusion  processes,  and  that  elusive  modification  keeps  us 
alive.  In  the  second  place,  the  mechanistic  description,  even 
if  it  attained  to  the  completeness  of  a  ledger  of  all  the  chem- 
ical and  physical  processes  in  a  piece  of'  behaviour,  would 
not  thereby  give  us  a  natural  history  description  of  tho 
behaviour.  We  need  historical  or  genetic  concepts.  So  we 
do  not  propose  to  sum  up  the  ways  of  a  starfish  as  those 
of  a  physico-chemical  machine. 

(d)  The  distinctively  biological  position  admits  that  phys- 
ical and  chemical  formulae,  concepts,  or  ^  categories '  are 
applicable  to  organisms,  but  argues  that  they  are  inadequate, 
notably,  for  instance,  because  life  is  always  in  a  sense  his- 
tory. But  has  not  the  line  of  physiological  progress  been 
mechanistic?  The  answer  is  that  it  is  part  of  the  method 
of  science  to  ^  abstract ',  and  that  it  has  been  of  great  service 
to  corner  off  and  analyse  physical  and  chemical  operations 
•which  occur  in  organisms.  But  the  success  that  has  attended 
the  study  of  the  chemistry  of  the  blood  or  the  study  of  tho 
optics  of  the  eye,  does  not  prove  that  the  physico-chemical 
description  of  a  living  creature  is  or  can  be  adequate. 

(e)  A  thoroughly  sound  criticism  is,  that  the  concepts  of 
physics  and  chemistry  are  not  stationary  but  in  process  of 


138  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

development,  so  that  any  argument  we  use  to-day  about  the 
^  irreducibility  '  of  vital  phenomena  refers  only  to  modern 
chemistry  and  physics  (unluckily,  to  be  frank,  to  what  we 
happen  to  understand  of  that  chemistry  and  physics).  The 
only  answer  to  this  criticism  is  that  at  any  given  time  we 
must  use  the  science  we  have  got.  ISTo  judgment  in  regard 
to  irreducibility  can  be  prophetic,  unless  we  feel  confident 
that  we  are  dealing  with  generic  differences,  such  as  those 
between  a  conscious  organism  and  a  crystal. 

(/)  Finally,  some  would  ask  whether  it  matters  much 
after  all  whether  a  chemico-physical  formulation  of  a  living 
organism  is  possible  or  not.  Is  there  any  depreciation  of 
the  "  lily-muffled  hum  of  a  summer  bee  "  if  it  be  "  coupled 
with  the  spinning  stars  ''  ?  The  answer  is  twofold  : — (1)  that 
science  is  all  for  veracity,  and  that  the  matter-and-motion 
summing  up  of  an  organism  seems  to  many  to  be  at  present 
a  false  simplicity;  and  (2)  that  the  treatment  of  a  living 
creature,  say  horse  or  dog,  as  exhaustible  in  chemical  and 
physical  terms  does  not  seem  the  way  to  get  the  most  or 
best  out  of  them.  A  physician's  success  in  treating  his  pa- 
tient from  the  purely  chemical  aspect  is  often  remarkable, 
but  it  may  be  eventually  necessary  to  recognise  other  aspects ! 

We  agree,  however,  that  what  really  matters  is,  that  our 
view  of  the  living  creature  be  thoroughly  well-informed. 
Whether  our  theoretical  interpretation  of  it  be,  that  it  is 
like  a  very  subtle  engine  or  an  intricate  solar  system,  or 
that  it  is  a  system  in  which  a  new  aspect  of  reality  has  mani- 
fested itself  so  that  special  biological  categories  are  required, 
the  most  important  thing  is  that  we  appreciate  the  facts  of 
the  case.  When  the  methods  of  theoretical  discussion  have 
been  exhausted,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  they  have  ever 
made  any  biologist  change  his  mind  from  a  position  to  which 


ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM  139 

personal  experience  had  led  him,  the  practical  conclusion 
is  that  we  must  keep  as  close  as  we  can  to  the  observable 
realities,  for  it  is  in  touch  with  these  that  we  are  most  likely 
to  get  fresh  light. 


SUMMARY. 

Chemically  considered,  the  organism  is  of  a  piece  with  its  sur- 
roundings (though  very  much  more  complex  than  any  mere  thing) ; 
it  may  be  usefully  studied  by  chemical  methods;  it  exhibits  many 
chemical  processes  which  can  be  studied  in  isolation.  Similarly, 
many  well-known  physical  processes  occur  in  the  living  body,  and 
there  is  in  its  activity  no  known  contradiction  of  the  law  of  the 
conservation  of  energy.  A  chemical  and  physical  {i.e.,  theoretically 
mechanical)  description  can  be  given  of  much  that  goes  on  in  the 
living  body,  and  this  kind  of  description  will  certainly  extend  its 
scope.  At  the  same  time,  there  are  difficulties  in  this  cheraico- 
physical  description;  some  vital  processes  do  not  illustrate  Van't 
Ho:ff's  rule  and  it  sometimes  seems  as  if  the  organism  were  able  to 
effect  some  evasion  of  the  second  law  of  thermodynamics. 

But  while  chemical  and  physical  (ideally  mechanical)  description 
has  its  place  and  usefulness  in  the  organic  realm,  it  is  inadequate  to 
answer  the  distinctively  biological  questions.  It  does  not  cover 
the  characteristic  facts  of  life. 

If  we  consider  the  everyday  functions  of  the  body,  we  find  that 
there  has  not  been  given  any  chemico-physical  description  of  any 
total  vital  operation,  such  as  the  contraction  of  a  muscle.  We 
cannot  satisfactorily  describe  in  mechanical  terms  either  the  con- 
catenation of  events  in  a  function  or  the  correlation  of  one  set 
of  events  with  another  set.  This  is  still  more  marked  when  we 
consider  animal  behaviour,  with  its  co-ordination  of  acts  in  an 
effective  series. 

As  to  individual  development,  we  cannot  give  a  mechanical  de- 
scription of  the  condensation  of  the  inheritance  into  a  germ-cell,  or 
of  the  differentiation  of  the  embryo,  or  of  the  regulation-phenomena 
observed  when  an  embryo  rights  itself  after  the  building  materials 
of  its  living  edifice  have  been  seriously  disaiTanged,  or  of  the  way 
in  which  many  developing  parts  seem  to  conspire  towards  one  result. 
Similarly,  as  regards  organic  evolution,  we  cannot  offer  a  mechanical 


140  ORGANISM  AND  MECHANISM 

theory  of  variability,  and  the  process  of  selection  is  more  than 
mechanical  sifting.  The  evolving  organism  is  a  historical  psycho- 
physical being,  an  agency  trading  with  time;  and  the  humblest 
creatures  are  in  their  mutations  creative. 

The  conclusion  is  thus  arrived  at,  that  mechanical  formulae  do  not 
suffice  for  answering  biological  questions. 


LECTURE  V. 
THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE. 


LECTURE  V. 
THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE. 

§1.  The  Inadequacy  of  a  Mechanistic  Description  of  Organisms  Is 
a  Negative  Conclusion.  §2.  The  Problem:  Vitalism  or  Me- 
chanism, or  Neither?  §3.  Are  Organisms  Unique  in  Virtue 
of  their  Complexity?  §4.  Have  Organisms  a  Monopoly  of 
Some  Peculiar  Energy  or  Energies?  §5.  Is  there  a  Non-per- 
ceptual Vital  Agency  resident  in  Organisms  and  Operative  in 
distinctively  Vital  Activities?  §6.  Descriptive  or  Methodolog- 
ical Vitalism:  the  ^Biological'  Vieiv.  §7.  Speculative.  §8. 
Retrospect.  §  9.  Why  Cannot  the  Controversy  between  Mech- 
anistic and  Vitalistic  Theory  be  Ended? 

§  1.    The  Inadequacy  of  a  Mechanistic  Descnption  of 
Organisms  Is  a  Negative  Conclusion. 

We  have  considered  the  chief  characteristics  of  living 
creatures — such  as  persistence  in  spite  of  change,  cyclical 
development,  and  effective  agency.  We  considered  the  or- 
ganism under  the  categoi-y  of  a  material  system — to  see  how 
that  fitted,  and  we  reached  the  conclusion  that,  while  this 
is  a  legitimate  and  useful  way  of  looking  at  a  living  creature, 
the  formulae  of  physics  and  chemistry  are  inadequate  for 
the  re-description  of  the  everyday  bodily  functions,  or  of 
behaviour,  or  of  development,  or  of  evolution.  We  did  not 
reach  any  conclusion  as  to  the  depth  of  difference  between 
organisms  and  not-living  things;  our  result  was  a  negative 
one,  that  the  chemico-physical  formula?  do  not  suffice  for 
answering  the  distinctively  biological  questions. 

It  is  an  unfortunate  tendency  of  the  human  mind  to  re- 
gard evidence  against  one  theory  as  evidence  in  favour  of 

143 


144  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

another.  This  holds  only  when  we  are  dealing  with  two 
logical  opposites,  one  of  which  must  be  true.  Many  times 
over  in  the  history  of  thought  there  has  been  a  rebound 
from  mechanistic  interpretation  discovered  to  be  inadequate, 
and  the  rebound  has  almost  always  landed  the  inquirer  in  a 
doctrine  of  positive  vitalism,  in  the  assumption  that  there 
is  some  non-perceptual  agency  at  work  in  a  living  body  which 
is  not  present  in  the  inorganic  domain,  and  without  which 
the  results  would  be  otherwise.  We  shall  not  jump  to  this 
conclusion,  but  we  must  consider  it  carefully.  In  its  clearest 
form  it  asserts  the  actuality  of  a  '  vital  principle  ',  or  '  vital 
impulse  ',  or  '  entelechy  ',  of  a  non-perceptual  character,  oc- 
casionally operating  in  living  creatures  and  operating  direc- 
tively.     Is  this  a  tenable  theory? 

§  2.    The  Problem:  Vitalism  or  Mechanism,  or  Neither? 

Before  we  discuss  the  theories  of  vitalism,  it  may  be  use- 
ful to  refer  to  three  preliminary  considerations. 

{a)  It  is  maintained  by  some  that  mechanistic  formula- 
tion {i.e.,  description  in  terms  of  matter  and  motion)  is 
not  exhaustive  even  within  the  domain  of  the  not-living. 
It  seems  to  be  adequate  for  certain  purposes,  e.g.,  when  the 
navigator  deals  with  the  tides,  but  is  it  certain  that  it  is 
an  ideal  formulation  for  things  in  general?  Does  it  take 
account  of  everything,  e.g.,  of  the  probability  that  the  living 
evolved  from  the  not-living  ?  But  the  adequacy  of  mechanical 
categories  in  the  domain  of  the  inorganic  is  a  question  for 
expert  physicists;  it  is  not  the  biologist's  business.  Our 
question  is  w^hether  the  formulae  which  work  adequately, 
if  not  exhaustively,  in  describing  the  not-living  world,  are 
beginning  to  answer  the  distinctively  biological  problems. 
If  not,  what  alternatives  are  there  ? 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  U5 

(h)  Secondly,  there  is  a  sense  in  wliich  all  biologists  may 
be  called  vitalists,  inasmuch  as  no  one  can  jjretend  that  the 
mechanical  re-description  of  vital  phenomena  has  as  yet  gone 
very  far.  Professor  Bateson  writes:  '^  If  those  who  proclaim 
a  vitalistic  faith  intend  thereby  to  affirm  that  in  the  jn-ocesses 
by  which  growth  and  division  are  effected  in  the  body,  a  part 
is  played  by  an  orderly  force  which  we  cannot  now  translate 
into  terms  of  any  known  mechanics,  what  observant  man  is 
not  a  vitalist?  "  (1913,  p.  80). 

We  must  distinguish  between  a  negative  and  a  positive 
vitalism.  When  we  assert  that  no  vital  activity  in  its  ob- 
served totality  has  ever  been  completely  described  in  mechan- 
ical terms,  as  one  might  describe  the  movement  of  a  glacier 
or  the  spread  of  a  conflagration,  we  are  making  a  scientific 
statement  which  we  believe  to  be  accurate  at  the  present 
time  (1919).  That  it  will  hold  true  a  hundred  or  a  thou- 
sand years  hence  does  not  follow  from  the  evidence  sub- 
mitted, for  we  do  not  know  what  changes  are  still  to  be 
made  in  the  concepts  of  chemistry  and  physics,  or  what  dis- 
coveries will  reward  inquiry  into,  for  instance,  the  physiology 
of  correlation.  It  may  be  that  a  mechanistic  formulation 
of  the  essential  activities  of  organisms  is  quite  impossible, 
but  that  could  not  be  legitimately  inferred  from  the  argu- 
ments we  used.  These  went  to  show  that  the  description 
of  vital  occurrences  in  terms  of  present-day  chemistry  and 
physics  does  not  adequately  express  the  connection  of  the 
sequences,  still  less  their  correlation.  We  can  speak  only 
about  the  chemistry  and  physics  that  we  know.  Sufficient 
unto  the  day  is  the  mechanism  thereof.  The  formuhe  of  chem- 
istry and  physics  prove  inadequate,  and  in  part  irrelevant. 
If  we  go  on  to  say  that  they  are  inadequate  hrranf^c  the 
organism  has  a  monopoly  of  a  peculiar  kind  of  energy,  or 


146  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

because  it  has  an  entelechy,  we  are  embarking  on  a  new 
adventure — that  of  a  positive  vitalistic  theory. 

(c)  It  is  held  by  some  that  it  is  the  presence  of  con- 
sciousness or  some  expression  of  mentality,  that  makes  all 
the  difference,  and  here  again  there  is  probably  a  gi^eat  truth 
— to  which  we  point  in  using  the  term  Animate  Nature. 
But  the  suggestion  as  it  stands  cannot  be  pressed  in  the 
meantime,  for  the  obvious  reason  that  there  are  many  living 
creatures  about  whose  mind  or  consciousness  we  cannot  make 
any  secure  statement,  where  even  the  argument  from  analogy 
fails  us.  So  it  must  be  clearly  understood  that  the  problem 
of  vitalism  is  different  from  that  of  animism.  The  problem 
of  vitalism  would  remain  even  if  the  world  held  only  plants 
and  no  animals  besides  ourselves — Jack  and  his  beanstalk,  in 
fact.  Now  whatever  we  may  believe,  we  do  not  know  any- 
thing about  the  mind  of  the  beanstalk.  Yet  we  may,  and 
do  maintain  that  mechanistic  formulae  do  not  suffice  to  an- 
swer our  biological  questions  concerning  the  beanstalk. 

Among  those  who  hold  that  plants  and  animals  stand 
apart  from  things  in  general,  we  may  distinguish  three 
grades.  (I)  The  first  view  is  that  the  configurations  that 
occur  in  organisms  are  so  different  from  those  in  the  inorganic 
domain  that  the  activities  of  organisms  cannot  be  predicted 
from  any  formulation  of  what  occurs  in  inorganic  systems. 
This  is  the  very  thin  edge  of  vitalism.  (II)  The  second 
view  is  that  there  operates  in  living  creatures  a  new  kind 
of  physical  energy  which  does  not  operate  elsewhere.  This 
is  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  mediaeval  form  of  vitalism — the 
doctrine  of  a  vital  force.  (Ill)  There  is  the  theory  of  a  non- 
perceptual  vital  agency  or  entelechy  which  operates  direc- 
tively  in  organisms.  This  is  the  clearest  and  the  most  thor- 
oughgoing form  of  vitalism. 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  147 

If  the  term  vitalism  be  restricted  to  (III),  as  many  would 
restrict  it,  and  if  a  mechanistic  theory  mean  tliat  the  cate- 
gories of  physics  and  chemistry  suffice  for  tlie  adequate  de- 
scription of  the  life  of  organisms  (leaving  mental  processes 
out  of  account),  then  we  suggest  that  the  proper  answer  to 
the  question  "  Mechanism  or  Vitalism  ?  "  is  '^  Neither  ". 
We  regard  the  question  as  one  of  the  many  false  dichotomies 
with  which  Man  in  his  search  after  clearness  has  been  led 
astray.  The  biologist  is  not  bound  to  accept  either  a  Vital 
Force  Theory,  or  a  Machine  Theory;  he  may  demand  a 
hiological  theory  in  terms  of  concepts  neither  transcendental 
nor  mechanical. 

§  3.    Are  Organisms  Unique  in  Virtue  of  their  Complexity? 

The  first  position,  recognising,  as  every  one  must,  a  nota- 
ble difference  between  an  organism  and  a  not-living  thing, 
finds  the  difference  in  the  much  greater  material  complexity. 
The  configurations  of  elementary  particles  are  so  much  more 
intricate  in  organisms  that  the  activities  of  organisms  cannot 
be  predicted  from  our  formulation  of  what  occurs  in  inor- 
ganic systems.  This  idea  applies  in  other  fields :  If  we  have 
never  seen  more  than  two  or  three  people  together,  we  are 
not  likely  to  be  able  to  predict  how  a  great  crowd  will  be- 
have. The  mechanist  passing  to  the  study  of  living  crea- 
tures is  like  the  student  of  inorganic  chemistry  who  is  sud- 
denly confronted  by  the  carbon  compounds;  he  is  assured 
that  he  is  still  at  the  same  science,  but  he  finds  this  difficult 
to  believe,  the  data  are  so  diiferent.  This  is  a  vital istic 
view  in  so  far  as  it  recognises  the  apartness  of  living  creatures 
from  things  in  general,  but  it  does  not  admit  that  the  problem 
of  the  Amoeba  on  the  hunt  is  more  than  a  very  difficult 
problem  in  dynamics.     It  does  not  admit  that  now  concepts 


148)  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

are  required  for  the  description  of  the  activities  of  living 
creatures.  The  biologist  may  be  allowed  a  laboratory  to 
himself  as  a  matter  of  convenience  and  courtesy,  just  as 
there  is  a  laboratory  for  Electrodynamics  quite  apart  from 
another  for  Hydrodynamics.  But  the  idea  of  biology  being 
an  autonomous  science  must  be  nipped  in  the  bud. 

It  is  interesting  to  notice  that  many  physicists,  who  are 
familiar  with  the  capabilities  of  mechanical  formulation, 
have  been  very  cautious  in  their  statements  regarding  the 
extension  of  this  to  vital  phenomena.  Gauss,  Cauchy,  and 
Kelvin  may  be  mentioned  as  investigators  of  the  first  rank 
in  mathematics  and  physics  who  regarded  life  as  belonging 
to  an  entirely  different  field.  Hertz  again  was  very  careful: 
"  We  can  neither  maintain  that  the  internal  phenomena  of 
animated  beings  obey  the  same  laws  (as  in  inanimate  na- 
ture) nor  that  they  follow  other  laws.  .  .  .  Our  principle, 
sufficient  perhaps  to  describe  the  motion  of  lifeless  matter, 
appears  at  least  p^ma  facie  to  be  too  simple  and  limited  to 
describe  the  manifoldness  of  even  the  lowest  vital  phe- 
nomena." j 

Lord  Kelvin's  view  was  more  dogmatic,  and  assertive 
rather  than  reasoned.  Yet  it  is  important,  for  surely  he,  of 
all  men,  must  have  known  how  far  his  physics  would  carry 
him.  ^'  The  only  contribution  of  dynamics  to  theoretical 
biology  is  absolute  negation  of  automatic  commencement 
or  automatic  maintenance  of  life.  .  .  .  The  opening  of 
a  bud,  the  growth  of  a  leaf,  the  astonishing  development 
of  beauty  in  a  flower,  involve  physical  operations  which 
completed  chemical  science  would  leave  as  far  beyond  our 
comprehension  as  the  differences  between  lead  and  iron, 
between  water  and  carbonic  acid,  between  gravitation  and 
magnetism,  are  at  present.     A  tree  contains  more  mystery 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  149 

of  creative  power  than  the  sue,  from  which  all  its  mechani- 
cal energy  is  borrowed.  An  earth  without  life,  a  sun,  and 
countless  stars  contain  less  wonder  than  that  grain  of  mignon- 
ette." 

With  the  first  grade  of  vitalism — that  the  problem  of  the 
homing  of  the  bird  is  only  a  very  complicated  form  of  the 
problem  of  the  return  of  the  boomerang — we  cannot  be  sat- 
isfied. And  a  sufficient  reason  for  dissatisfaction — though 
not  the  only  one — is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  it  has  not 
yet  been  found  possible  to  give  a  mechanistic  answer  to 
any  biological  question.  We  know  a  great  deal  about  the 
structure  of  muscle,  the  chemical,  thermal,  and  electrical 
changes  that  go  on  in  muscle,  but  we  cannot  give  a  chemico- 
physical  account  of  the  contraction  of  a  muscle.  If  ^  expla- 
nation bv  analysis  '  had  becrin  to  be  successful,  we  miijht 
hesitate  before  resorting  to  ^  explanation  by  synthesis ', 
as  we  do,  for  instance,  when  we  say  that  the  bird  comes 
home  because  it  is  a  creature  in  whose  present  the  enregis- 
tered  past  counts. 

§  4.     Have  Organisms  a  Monopoly  of  Some  Peculiar  Energy 

or  Energies? 

According  to  the  second  grade  of  vitalism,  there  is  a 
peculiar  kind  of  energy  operative  in  living  crentures  and 
Bowhere  else.  Organisms  have  a  monopoly  of  some  power 
in  the  same  (perceptual)  series,  as,  say,  electricity.  This 
is  a  continuation  of  one  form  of  the  old  hypothesis  of 
*  Vital  Force ',  and  it  has  not  found  many  supporters  in 
recent  years.  But  it  is  an  honest  theory,  and  may  be  illus- 
trated by  a  reference  to  the  work  of  a  thoughtful  biologist, 
Prof.  M.  Hartog  of  Cork.  Every  one  admits  that  one  of 
the  commonest  phenomena  of  life  is  also  one  of  the  most  stag- 


150  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

gering,  namely,  cell-division.  After  extraordinarily  intricate 
and  uniform  internal  movements  of  particles  a  cell  divides 
with  meticulous  accuracy  into  two  precisely  similar  halves, 
sometimes,  strange  to  say,  into  two  quite  dissimilar  halves. 
As  wo  have  already  remarked,  it  is  one  of  the  wonders  of 
the  world.  Like  not  a  few  others,  Professor  Hartog  has  been 
studying  the  dividing  cell  for  many  years,  and  he  believes 
that  he  has  discovered  a  new  force  operative  in  the  process. 
He  is  quite  clear  that  well-known  physical  forces  are  at  play 
in  the  dividing  cell,  such  as  mechanical  tensions,  surface 
tensions,  and  osmotic  actions;  he  is  also  clear  that  agencies 
are  at  work  which  occur  elsewhere  in  living  organisms,  but 
whose  physical  interpretation  is  uncertain,  such  as  protoplas- 
mic streaming;  yet  when  he  has  made  allowance  for  all 
these  he  finds  evidence  of  the  working  of  a  new  force  which 
he  calls  ^'  mitokinetism  ".  He  does  not  know  the  proximate 
cause  of  this  force  or  its  relation  to  other  forces,  he  knows 
it  by  its  works,  and  he  cannot  identify  it  with  any  other 
force,  electrostatic  for  instance.  Nor  does  he  base  his  own 
vitalistic  belief  on  his  "  mitokinetism  ".  We  have  here  the 
basis  of  a  theory  that  organisms  have  a  monopoly  of  some 
peculiar  energy  or  energies,  and  are  therefore  apart  both 
from  machines  and  from  not-living  things  in  general. 

A  clear  statement  of  this  position  was  given  by  the  late 
Prof.  Richard  Assheton,  who  suggested  that  instead  of  being 
satisfied  with  the  more  or  less  mystical  Entelechy  we  should 
look  out  for  some  form  of  energy  peculiar  to  living  matter. 
In  1894,  Roux  observed  that  if  the  cleavage-cells  of  the  ovum 
of  the  frog  (Rana  fusca)  towards  the  end  of  segmentation 
be  isolated  and  floated  in  a  suitable  medium,  they  show 
mutual  attraction.  The  sides  of  one  cell  become  drawn  out 
towards   a   neighbouring   cell ;    the   cells   move   towards   one 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  1.51 

another  and  touch;  they  actually  become  pressed  and  flat- 
tened up  against  one  another.  This  interesting  attraction 
was  called  by  Eoux  cytotropisra  or  cytotaxis,  and  it  has  been 
observed  in  other  cases.  Assheton  was  particularly  concerned 
with  the  development  of  the  lancelet  or  Amphioxus,  where 
the  ovum  divides  into  a  hollow  ball  of  cells,  which  again  is 
indimpled  or  invaginated  to  form  a  two-layered  sac  of  cells, 
the  gastrula.  Assheton  sought  to  show  that,  if  there  were 
an  attractive  force  between  cell  and  cell,  acting  from  centres 
represented  by  the  nuclei  of  the  cells,  the  hollow  ball  of  cells 
would  at  a  certain  stage  become  invaginated.  The  explana- 
tion of  how  gastrulation  might  come  about  was  put  forward 
as  indirect  evidence  in  favour  of  the  existence  of  some  force 
acting  from  a  centre  like  gravitation  or  magnetism  or  statical 
electricity,  but  probably  of  a  different  nature  and  with  dif- 
ferent laws,  and  an  attribute  of  living  matter  alone.  Asshe- 
ton meant  definitely  a  kind  of  physical  energy  "  which  could 
be  investigated  by  the  ordinary  methods  of  mensuration  and 
computation  available  to  the  mathematician  '\ 

Herbst  made  the  remarkable  observation  that  if  the  ova 
of  the  sea-urchin  be  allowed  to  develop  in  sea  water  deprived 
of  its  calcium  salts,  the  blastomeres  separate  from  one  an- 
other, instead  of  adhering.  What  looks  like  repulsion  be- 
tween two  centres  is  seen  in  the  normal  process  of  cell- 
division,  where  the  incipient  daughter-nuclei,  while  still  parts 
of  the  parent  cell,  seem  to  repel  one  another,  and  yet  imme- 
diately after  separation  appear  to  attract  one  another  strongly. 
Assheton  suggested  that  the  hypothetical  form  of  encrg;^'  ex- 
hibits an  unceasing  recurrence  of  a  bipolar  state  out  of  a 
unipolar  state.  "  The  attraction  and  repulsion  observed  be- 
tween cell  and  cell  are  certain  of  the  manifestations  of  this 
supposed  form  of  energy — but  probably  not  by  any  means 


152  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

all;  just  as  attraction  aiid  repulsion  are  manifestations  of 
electrical  energy  under  certain  conditions,  but  are  not  by 
any  means  the  only  manifestations."  Dr.  Assheton  went 
on  to  suggest  that  in  nerve  impulses  we  may  experience 
^'  manifestations  in  another  way  of  the  same  form  of  energy 
which  under  other  conditions  produces  the  attractions  and 
repulsions  and  the  figures  of  strain  in  the  dividing  cells, 
and  the  actual  cell  division  ".  '^  Driesch's  Entelechy,"  he 
concludes,  "  although  not  supplying  the  essential  qualities  of 
a  driving  force,  may  perhaps  be  a  complex  system  of  a  sim- 
pler vitalistic  force  with  other  forces  which  has  within  cer- 
tain limits  a  balancing  or  compensatory  influence  upon  the 
course  of  development  like  that  which  a  gyroscope  has  in 
compensating  (within  certain  limits)  for  disturbances  to 
the  course  of  a  monorail  vehicle  "  (p.  76). 

The  disadvantages  of  this  position  are  the  following: 
first,  it  is  difficult  to  prove  the  independence  of  the  alleged 
new  force  or  energy;  second,  to  att-ach  much  theoretical  im- 
portance to  it  reminds  us  warningly  of  the  old  mistake  of 
making  much  of  organic  compounds,  which  it  was  alleged, 
could  not  be  formed  without  the  aid  of  the  '  vital  force  ' 
resident  in  organism ;  third,  the  inadequacy  of  the  physico- 
chemical  formulae  to  describe  animal  behaviour  or  the  like, 
does  not  appear  to  be  of  a  kind  which  would  be  affected  by 
the  discovery  of  a  new  form  of  physical  energy  either  within 
or  without  the  organism.  Yet  the  theory  that  there  may  be 
a  special  kind  of  power  or  energy  operative  in  living  crea- 
tures is  on  the  lines  of  sound  science,  and  must  be  impartial- 
ly tested  by  biologists.  There  seems  nothing  very  unlikely 
in  the  idea  that  living  matter  may  be  able  to  effect  an  or- 
ganisation of  movement  in  some  way  which  we  do  not  under- 
stand.    The  theory  has  nothing  to  do  with  Ostwald's  sug- 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  153 

gestion  that  the  chemical  energy  of  protoplasm  may  be  trans- 
formed into  the  mental  energy  of  thinking,  which  seems  to 
us  a  contradiction  in  terms. 

It  is  stated  that  the  movements  of  molecules  in  the  domain 
of  the  inorganic  obey  the  law  of  probability;  it  is  interesting 
to  ask  whether  that  is  true  of  the  molecules  within  or«ranisras 
(see  Soddy,  Matter  and  Energy,  p.  101).  But  we  cannot 
suggest  a  test  case!  Is  it  conceivable  that,  just  as  lowering 
the  temperature  of  a  gas  makes  it  into  a  liquid  whose  mole- 
cules below  the  surface  have  movements  quite  different  from 
what  they  had  in  the  gas  state,  so  complicated  molecules 
in  a  colloid  state  have  movements  which  obey  some  other 
law  than  that  of  probability,  and  is  it  conceivable  that  the 
reality  of  which  the  molecular  movements  are  one  expres- 
sion then  begins  to  show  another  aspect,  perhaps,  as  some 
would  say,  a  metakinetic  aspect? 

§  5.    7s  there  a  Non-perceptual  Vital  Agency  resident  in  Or- 
ganisms and  operative  in  Distinctively  Vital  Activities? 

The  third  view  is  thoroughgoing  vitalism,  best  represented 
by  Driesch,  w^hose  ingenuity  and  consistency  command  our 
admiration.  Its  postulate  is  a  non-perceptual  vital  agency, 
which  does  not  occur  in  not-living  things  but  is  confined  to 
organisms,  where  it  operates  in  certain  cases,  directing  the 
chemico-physical  processes  so  that  their  results  are  different 
from  what  they  would  have  been  apart  from  its  interven- 
tion. Three  points  should  be  carefully  noted: — (1)  that  the 
postulated  vital  agency  or  entelechy  is  not  the  outcome  of 
more  complex  physical  conditions,  ^'  not  a  new  elemental  con- 
sequence of  some  constellation " ;  (2)  that  it  only  inter- 
venes at  certain  steps,  introducing  an  occasional  indctcrmin- 
ism;  and  (3)  that  it  is  supposed  to  be  a  genuine  agent,  count- 


154  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

ing  for  something,  ^'  at  work  ■'  as  Driesch  says.   On  this  view, 

obviously,  there  is  a  deep-lying  distinction  between  the  flight 

of  a  bird  and  the  movement  of  a  comet,  and  Biology  is  by 

hypothesis  autonomous.     A  general  statement  of  this  third 

position,   apart  from  Driesch's  particular  formulation,   has 

been  given  by  Ritter    (1911,  p.  437).     After  stating  that 

materialism  is  the  belief  that  all  vital  phenomena  can  be 

completely  explained  in  terms  of  the  material  elements  that 

go  to  make  up  the  organism,  he  defines  vitalism  as   ^^  the 

belief  that  organic  phenomena  cannot  be  fully  explained  by 

referring  them  to  the  material  elements  of  which  organisms 

are  composed,  but  that  something  not  really  belonging  to 

the  natural  order,  either  explicit  or  implicit,  is  present  in 

living  things.     The  essence  of  the  conception,  whatever  be  its 

variety  or  form  of  statement,  is  that  something  absolutely 

new   and   novel   came   into   the   world    when   living  beings 

came  and  that  this  came  as  a  special  force,  or  principle,  or 

factor — anything  you  have  in  mind  to  call   it,  so  long  as 

it  is  not  material.     A  further  essential  to  the  conception  is 

that  this  new  thing  is  elemental,  protean,  once-for-all.     It 

is  not  exactly  the  life  itself  of  the  organism.     It  is  rather 

the  informing,  underpinning,  ultimate  motor,  of  life." 

The  general  nature  of  the  argument  that  Driesch  uses  to 
support  his  conception  of  Entelechy  may  be  briefly  indi- 
cated. He  takes  in  particular  the  facts  of  morphogenesis — 
the  development  of  the  embryo  or  the  regeneration  of  a  lost 
part.  If  what  takes  place  is  determined  solely  by  physical 
factors  there  must  be  something  in  the  nature  of  a  very 
complex  machine  in  the  egg  or  at  the  cut  end  of  the  hydroid 
branch  from  which  a  new  polyp  grows.  He  allows  the 
imagination  to  erect  this  machine  with  all  conceivable 
intricacy    and   device,    and    then   proceeds   remorselessly   to 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  155 

bring  forward  fact  after  fact  which  contradicts  the  possi- 
bility of  such  a  machine  accounting  for  the  result  observed. 
Thus  by  an  argument  by  exclusion  he  seeks  to  prove  that 
the  development  must  be  determined  by  a  non-spatial,  non- 
perceptual  agent  or  Entelechy. 

(a)  One  of  the  objections  to  thoroughgoing  vitalism  is 
that  it  implies  a  definite  breach  in  the  fundamental  law 
of  the  conservation  of  energy.  If  a  non-perceptual  agency 
occasionally  directs  the  chemico-physical  operations  of  the 
body,  there  must  be  some  exertion  of  power  which  docs  not 
figure  in  the  chemical  and  physical  accounts.  The  calo- 
rimeter experiments  seem  to  show  that  for  a  man  in  a  closed 
system  the  expenditure  is  equal  to  the  income  over  a  term 
of  days.  There  is  no  gap  for  the  intervention  of  a  physical 
agency;  no,  not  for  a  moment.  This  is  a  serious  objection, 
yet  apt  to  pierce  the  hand  of  those  who  rely  on  it.  For  it 
is  a  rash  procedure  to  use  a  physical  generalisation  as  a 
dogma  in  the  realm  of  organisms.  It  is  begging  the  question. 
Boyle's  Law  did  duty  for  a  couple  of  centuries  before  physi- 
cists discovered  that  it  is  accurate  only  between  certain  limits. 
The  Law  of  Gravitation  does  not  hold  below  certain  sizes  and 
distances.  Perhaps  the  Law  of  the  Consen^ation  of  Energy 
does  not  quite  hold  for  living  creatures.  The  calorimeter  ex- 
periments are  not  so  absolutely  exact  that  it  can  be  asserted 
that  the  balance  at  the  end  of  the  day  is  precisely  what  it 
should  have  been  if  the  organism  were  a  mechanism  and  noth- 
ing more,  and  that  therefore  an  Entelechy  does  not  exist. 
One  remembers  that  a  very  minute  expenditure  of  energy 
may  effect  a  great  deal,  just  as  cutting  a  tape  or  pressing 
a  button  launches  a  vessel.  Driesch's  Entelechy  is  supposed 
to  act  by  inhibiting  for  a  time  the  transformation  of  one  kind 
of  energy  into  another. 


156  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

In  a  case  of  this  sort  it  is  the  opinion  of  expert  physicists 
that  is  most  valued,  and  in  discussing  the  analogous  case 
of  the  operation  of  our  will,  the  late  Prof.  J.  H.  Pojn- 
ting,  an  authority  of  eminence,  suggested  that  a  merely 
deflecting  force  does  no  work  though  it  changes  configura- 
tion. The  will  may  introduce  a  constraint  which  guides 
molecules  to  glide  past  one  another  instead  of  clashing — a 
slight  change  of  spin  which  may  be  compensated  for  by  a 
slight  opposite  spin  put  on  the  rest  of  the  body.  ^^  The  will 
may  act  as  a  guiding  power  changing  the  direction  of  the 
atoms  and  molecules  in  the  brain,  and  we  can  imagine  such 
a  guiding  power  without  having  to  modify  our  ideas  of 
the  constancy  of  matter  or  the  constancy  of  motion  or  even 
the  constancy  of  energy"  (Poynting,  1903,  p.  745). 

(h)  A  recurrent  argument  in  Driesch's  exposition  of  his 
doctrine  of  vitalism  is  that  no  machine-like  agency  can  possi- 
bly account  for  the  facts  of  development,  inheritance,  and  be- 
haviour. A  machine  is  defined  as  ''  a  given  specific  combina- 
tion of  specific  chemical  and  physical  agents  ",  and  Driesch 
seeks  to  reduce  to  absurdity  the  theory  that  any  machine  could 
do  what  is  required.  His  argument  is  very  convincing,  but 
of  course  we  can  argue  only  about  machines  that  we  know, 
and  imaginative  combinations  or  improvements  of  these,  so 
it  seems  open  to  the  critic  to  reply  that  no  one  knows  all  possi- 
ble machines,  and  to  urge  that  proving  the  untenability  of  a 
machine-theory  does  not  prove  the  necessity  of  postulating 
an  Entelechy. 

Concerning  the  ingenious  machines — almost  super- 
machines — invented  by  man,  it  may  not  be  needless  to  re- 
mind ourselves  that  their  introduction  into  the  argument 
is  apt  to  be  fallacious.  For  they,  like  the  wonderful  achieve- 
ments of  the  synthetic  chemists,  are  the  fruits  of  intelligence. 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  157 

not  fair  samples  of  the  inorganic  world.  An  ingenious 
machine,  like  a  type-writing  or  a  calculating  machine,  is 
an  elaborated  tool,  an  extended  hand,  and  has  inside  of  it,  so 
to  speak,  a  human  thought.  It  is  because  of  these  qualities 
that  it  is  a  little  like  an  organism.  Practically,  however, 
most  of  those  who  have  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  living 
creatures  will  agree  with  Driesch  in  the  negative  part  of 
his  position  that  their  behaviour  is  not  very  like  the  work- 
ing of  machines.  For  certain  purposes  it  is  not  amiss  to 
think  of  the  organism  as  an  engine,  but  it  is  a  self-stoking, 
self-repairing,  self-preservative,  self-adjusting,  self-increas- 
ing, self-reproducing  engine ! 

(c)  Dr.  J.  S.  Haldane  states  another  objection.  ^^  In  order 
to  ^  guide  '  effectually  the  excessively  complex  physical  and 
chemical  phenomena  occurring  in  living  material,  and  at 
many  different  parts  of  a  complex  organism,  the  vital  prin- 
ciple would  apparently  require  to  possess  a  superhuman 
knowledge  of  these  processes.  Yet  the  vital  principle  is 
assumed  to  act  unconsciously.  The  very  nature  of  the  vital- 
istic  assumption  is  thus  totally  unintelligible."  Because  we 
do  not  understand  vital  phenomena  in  terms  of  mechanism, 
we  postulate  an  Entelechy,  only  to  discover  that  we  have  no 
idea  how  the  Entelechy  can  know  what  to  do.  We  believe 
that  a  dog's  appreciation  of  the  meaning  of  certain  circum- 
stances is  real  and  an  effective  factor  in  its  ensuing  be- 
haviour, and  there  are  various  ways  of  thinking  of  the  dog's 
intelligent  behaviour  so  that  it  does  not  appear  magical  or 
miraculous,  but  we  find  it  difficult  to  think  of  the  Entclcchy's 
appreciation  of  an  intricate  chemical  situation  within  the 
body.  Even  if  we  suppose  a  hierarchy  of  psychoids  with 
division  of  labour,  acting  like  the  various  men  about  a  rail- 
way station,  some  of  whom  put  people  into  the  proper  trains, 


158  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

while  others  put  them  into  the  proper  compartments,  others 
shut  the  doors  and  give  the  signals,  and  others  work  the 
points,  the  correlation  of  the  whole  by  the  chief  Entelechy 
is  just  the  problem  we  started  w^ith. 

To  many  it  appears  that  to  assume  the  existence  of  an 
Entelechy  does  not  help  in  the  least.  '^  It  seems  to  be  merely 
a  way  of  collecting  all  the  difficulties  together  and  giving  the 
bundle  a  name."  Professor  Jennings  asks  persistently  how 
the  Entelechy  gets  its  power  of  co-ordinating  and  harmonis- 
ing. ^^  To  accept  the  Entelechy  unanalysed  and  unexplained 
is  merely  to  give  up  the  problem  as  insoluble."  And  if 
we  try  to  work  out  a  comparative  development  of  Entele- 
chies, — '^  then  surely  we  are  merely  transferring  our  problem 
from  the  complex  that  we  actually  find  in  time  and  space 
to  a  sort  of  manufactured  copy  of  this  problem,  presenting 
the  same  difficulties,  with  the  additional  one  that  it  is 
impalpable  and  cannot  be  directly  dealt  with  at  all.  The 
Entelechy  simply  adds  to  our  difficulties." 

We  confess  to  some  sympathy  with  those  who  ask  why 
there  should  be  all  this  straining  and  striving  to  remove 
organisms  from  the  domain  which  includes  the  stars  and 
precious  stones,  ^Northern  Lights  and  dew-drops.  For  the 
world  that  we  parcel  out  is  probably  one  after  all,  and  in 
any  case  there  is  no  stigma  in  being  mechanical.  With  this 
sympathy  we  would  quote  from  a  colleague : — '^  I  am  neither 
afraid  nor  ashamed  to  uphold  (to  the  great  length  that  I 
have  gone)  a  mechanical  theory  of  the  organism  and  its 
activities,  or  rather  of  its  reactions  with  the  outer  world.  I 
do  not  admit  that  in  doing  so  we  degrade  our  conceptions, 
or  belittle  our  notions,  of  the  organism.  The  mechanical 
concept  is  no  base  one  at  all.  The  earth  itself  and  the  sea, 
the  earth  with  her  slowly  changing  face,  and  the  sea  multi- 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  159 

tudinous  with  all  its  tides  and  currents  and  great  and  little 
"waves,  constitute  a  mechanism ;  the  heavens  themselves,  the 
sun  and  moon  and  all  the  little  stars,  are  a  glorious  mecha- 
nism. The  whole  material  aspect  of  the  universe  is  a  mecha- 
nism ;  we  know  not  how  it  has  its  being,  but  we  know  that  it 
lives  and  moves  obedient  to  everlasting  laws;  and  the  same 
Benedicite  Dominum  is  addressed  to  the  Showers  and  Dew 
and  to  the  Winds  of  God  as  to  all  that  move  in  the  waters 
and  all  that  move  in  the  air,  and  to  all  the  Beasts  and  Cattle, 
and  unto  the  Children  of  Men  "  (D'Arcj  Thompson,  Life 
and  Finite  Individuality,  p.  52). 

This  is  admirably  said,  yet  we  do  not  think  that  the 
category  of  '  mechanism '  exhausts  the  reality  of  the  earth 
and  the  heavens,  still  less  that  of  the  flower  in  the  crannied 
wall.  It  is  mainly  a  matter  of  method:  Are  mechanical 
categories  sufficient  in  biology  or  must  we  have  biological 
categories  as  well  ?  For  practical  purposes,  moreover,  the 
theory  of  organism  transcending  mechanism  is  to  be  recom- 
mended.    It  has  pragmatic  sanction. 

§  6.    Descriptive  or  Methodological  Vitalism:  the 

'  Biological '  Vieiv. 

Looking  backwards,  we  cannot  accept  the  view  that  the 
study  of  animal  behaviour  is  just  the  study  of  very  intricate 
and  at  present  insoluble  problems  in  chemistry  and  physics ; 
we  cannot  accept  the  view  that  organisms  exhibit  a  new  kind 
of  physical  energy  or  several  of  them ;  and  we  cannot  accept 
the  thoroughgoing  vitalistic  theory  of  an  Entelechy.  What, 
then,  is  our  position  ? 

We  wish  primarily  and  scientifically  to  stand  for  what 
may  be  called  '  descriptive  '  or  '  methodological  '  vitalism. 
Unable  to  attain  any  discernment  of  the  essence  of  the  differ- 


160  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

ence  between  organisms  and  things  in  general,  we  hold  to 
what  we  believe  to  be  a  fact,  that  mechanical  formulae  do 
not  begin  to  answer  the  distinctively  biological  questions. 
We  do  not  doubt  the  value  of  bio-chemistry  and  bio-physics, 
but  when  these  are  added  up  the  summation  is  not  biology. 
We  need  new  concepts — such  as  that  of  the  organism  as  a 
historic  being  which  has  traded  with  time,  and  has  en- 
registered  within  itself  past  experiences  and  experiments, 
and  which  has  ever  its  conative  bow  bent  towards  the  future. 
We  need  these  new  concepts  because  there  are  new  facts 
to  describe,  which  we  cannot  analyse  away  into  so-called 
simpler  processes.  In  the  present  state  of  knowledge  we 
cannot  tell  in  what  the  newness  essentially  consists.  This 
appears  to  us  to  be  a  quite  legitimate  stopping-place,  without 
going  on  (except  speculatively)  to  any  positive  vitalistic 
theory  which  must  be,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  meta- 
physical. 

The  best  statement  that  we  know  of  methodological  vital- 
ism is  that  given  by  Mr.  E.  S.  Russell,  and  we  take  one  of 
his  illustrations — the  migration  of  the  European  eel  to  its 
spawning  ground  in  the  deep,  warm,  and  salt  waters  on  the 
verge  of  the  abyssal  Atlantic.  Chemical  and  physical  meth- 
ods can  tell  us  much — how  the  eel  gets  energy  for  its  long 
journey,  and  a  score  of  other  things ;  they  might  conceivably 
give  us  an  account  of  every  transformation  of  energy  within 
the  eel  from  the  time  it  left  the  pond  to  the  time  of  its  death 
in  the  dark  abysses,  but  they  do  not  illumine  the  biological 
fact  of  the  eel's  migration.  As  Mr.  Russell  says,  '^  The 
migration  is,  so  to  speak,  a  fact  of  a  higher  order  than  any 
physical  or  chemical  fact,  although  it  is  made  up  of  an  in- 
definitely large  number  of  physical  and  chemical  facts.  To 
explain  the  fact  one  must  accept  it  as  a  whole,  not  seek 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  Kji 

to  conquer  by  dividing  it,   for  if  one   analyses   it   into   its 
components  one  inevitably  misses  the  bond  of  union. 
The  explanation  of  a  biological  fact  cannot  be  obtained  by 
decomposing  it,  any  more  than  the  properties  of  a  chemical 
compound  can  be  deduced  from  the  properties  of  its  consti- 
tuent elements.    ...   A  biological  fact  is  something  more 
than  a  mere  arbitrary  assemblage  of  component  physical  and 
chemical  facts,  and  the  component  facts  may  be  explained 
without  touching  at  all  the  problem  of  their  composition. 
In  the  case  of  the  eel  it  is  possible  to  decompose  the  act  of 
migration  into  a  large  number  of  acts  of  a  different  order, 
into   the   chemical    reactions   occurring   in    muscular   move- 
ment, in  nervous  conduction,  in  the  stimulation  of  peripheral 
sense  organs,  but  by  doing  so  one  cannot  but  lose  sight  of  the 
interconnection  of  these  single  acts,  the  interconnection  which 
really  binds  together  all  these  acts  into  the  single  act  of 
migration.     ...     To    decompose    the    act    of    migration 
into  an  infinity  of  physico-chemical  processes  is  to  take  an 
infinity  of  little  partial  views  of  the  act,  but  what  one  needs 
for  an  explanation  of  the  fact  is  a  comprehensive  view  which 
will  unite  all  the  relevant  features  of  it  into  one  picture.    To 
the  chemist  confronted  with  the  problem  there  is  no  fact 
of  migration  at  all,  there  is  only  an  intricate  enravelment 
of  chemical  reactions ;  to  the  biologist  the  fact  of  migration 
to  a  particular  region  for  a  particular  purpose  is  cardinal, 
and  the  chemical  processes  involved  in  the  action  are  neg- 
ligible.'' 

But,  it  may  be  said,  if  the  mechanistic  description  leaves 
the  eeFs  migration  obscure,  does  any  other  description  fare 
better?  The  answer  is  that  we  must  look  at  the  migration 
in  the  light  of  what  we  know  of  organisms  in  general.  It 
is  certain,   for  instance,  that  what   a  living  creature  does 


162  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

is  in  part  determined  by  the  past — its  own  experience  and 
the  history  of  its  race.  In  the  organism,  as  Bergson  says, 
the  past  is  prolonged  into  the  present.  "  Living  things 
therefore  require  an  historical  explanation.  ISTon-living 
things,  on  the  contrary,  have  no  history  in  the  biological 
sense  of  the  word,  and  no  inorganic  thing  carries  its  past 
about  Avith  it''  (Russell,  1911,  p.  338).  We  have  to  pass, 
therefore,  to  a  new  level  of  explanation,  and  whenever  we 
mention  that  the  eel  is  one  of  a  deep-sea  race  which  has 
adventurously  taken  to  colonising  the  fresh  waters — just  as 
the  salmon  is  one  of  a  fresh-water  race  which  has  taken  to 
exploiting  the  resources  of  the  sea, — and  notice  further  that 
many  animals  return  to  their  birth-place  to  breed,  and  that 
some  go  back  to  their  birth-place  to  die,  a  biological  light 
begins  to  be  shed  on  the  eel's  strange  story.  And  we  have 
but  begun.  Of  course  if  the  objector  is  prepared  to  main- 
tain that  the  enregistering  of  experience  by  organisms  is 
nothing  more  than  a  special  case  of  the  peculiar  way  in  which 
colloids  are  influenced  by  their  history,  we  can  only  say  that 
this  theory  must  get  more  facts  to  back  it  before  we  can  take 
it  very  seriously. 

No  one  wishes  to  slacken  investigation  into  the  physiology 
of  migration — a  most  fascinating  and  suggestive  inquiry. 
It  is  known  that  when  eels  become  mature  there  is  an  altera- 
tion in  the  metabolism,  and  that  the  altered  metabolism  af- 
fects the  carbon  dioxide  content  of  the  blood,  that  this  in- 
creases irritability,  and  that  this  increases  range  and  vigour 
of  movements,  and,  moreover,  that  changes  in  the  metabolism 
of  the  animal  affect  its  reactions  to  chemicals  in  the  water, 
to  gravity,  and  to  currents.  Much  knowledge  of  this  kind  is 
accumulating,  but  it  seems  to  many  that  it  does  not  grip  the 
problem  unless  it  be  taken  along  with  the  concept  of  the 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  163 

organismal  enregistration  of  past  experiences,  individual  and 
racial.  We  must  bear  in  mind  that  organismal  reactions  are 
often  very  precise — the  Xorth  Sea  will  not  suit  the  eel,  it 
must  move  on ;  that  they  are  often  extraordinarily  insistent, 
as  we  may  infer  from  Maitland's  experiments  on  Smolts 
which  were  always  jumping  out  of  the  pond  at  the  time  when 
they  should  naturally  have  been  leavins;  fresh  water :  that 
the  internal  adjustments  are  so  delicate  that  they  begin  to 
operate  long  before  the  situation  is  at  all  critical ;  and  that, 
after  all,  what  we  see  is  an  active  searching  out  of  regions  or 
conditions  of  optimum  stimulation. 

§  7.    Speculative. 

Such,  then,  is  the  position  which  may  be  called  descriptive 
or  methodological  vitalism.  If  we  are  pressed  to  go  beyond 
Science  in  the  endeavour  to  form  some  connected  reconstruc- 
tion, we  should  say  that  those  constellations  of  '  matter ' 
and  ^  energy '  which  we  call  organisms  aiford  opportunity 
for  the  expression  of  aspects  of  reality  which  are  undetect- 
able in  the  inorganic  doman.  '  Matter  '  and  ^  energy  '  are 
scientific  concepts  defined  for  the  description  of  the  so- 
called  physical  universe;  they  are  defined  by  certain  meth- 
ods— the  intellectual  instruments  of  physics  and  chemistry; 
they  are  admittedly  reached  by  processes  of  abstraction.  In 
dealing  with  the  outer  world  apart  from  life,  these  formula? 
work  well,  but  we  find  no  warrant  for  assertine;  that  they 
exhaust  the  reality  of  ISTature.  They  correspond  to  reality, 
for  we  risk  our  lives  on  this  correspondence,  but  it  does  not 
follow  that  they  are  exhaustive.  Reality  is  richer  than  they. 
For  just  as  a  physician  may  on  occasions  treat  his  patient 
successfully  without  recos^iising  him  as  a  rational  bring  at 
all,  yet  will  on  other  occasions  fail  grievously  through  not 


164.  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

doing  so,  so  it  is  possible  that  an  aspect  of  reality  which  may 
be  safely  neglected,  being  latent  or  hidden,  in  one  constella- 
tion of  matter  and  energy,  may  be  patent  and  dominant  in 
another.  Instead  of  supposing  the  intervention  of  vital 
impetus  or  Entelechies  as  bolts  from  the  blue  which  enter 
organisms,  may  we  not  conclude  that  the  qualities  which 
render  the  postulation  of  vital  impetus  and  Entelechy  neces- 
sary to  some  minds  have  been  in  kind  present  throughout. 
We  say  "  in  kind  ",  since  most  naturalists  agree  in  believing 
that  we  share  in  a  movement  which  is  not  the  unwinding 
of  something  originally  given,  but  an  evolution  in  which 
time  counts. 

Our  argument  for  the  autonomy  of  biology  may  be  ex- 
pressed in  general  form  by  saying  that  it  recognises  the 
correlation  rather  than  the  unity  of  the  science  of  Nature. 
We  find  it  technically  stated  by  Prof.  Arthur  0.  Lovejoy: — 
''  Scientific  unification  takes  place  in  so  far  as  diverse  classes 
of  phenomena  come  to  be  recognised  as  deducible  from  a 
single,  relatively  simple  generalisation  concerning  the  cor- 
relation of  certain  variables — provided  that  in  each  partic- 
ular case  the  actual  natures  or  values  of  the  variables  be 
known.  And  unification  fails  of  attainment  in  so  far  as 
two  or  more  kinds  of  phenomena  appear  (in  the  light  of 
existing  knowledge)  as  undeducible  from  any  single,  already 
verified  law,  even  were  the  actual  values  of  the  variables 
referred  to  by  any  such  law  precisely  ascertained  for  the 
phenomena  in  question.  When  two  or  more  comparatively 
specific  laws  are,  in  the  latter  sense,  incapable  of  being 
deduced  from  any  common,  more  general,  law — in  other 
words,  are  not  thus  far  unified — we  may  speak  of  the  laws 
as  being  discontinuous  with  one  another"  (1912,  p.  17). 
He  goes  on  to  say  that  while  discontinuity  emerges  if  the 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  165 

behaviour  of  an  animal  is  shown  to  be  not  deducible  from  the 
laws  of  thermodynamics,  though  in  conformity  with  ihcni, 
a  greater  discontinuity  will  appear  if  it  should  be  shown 
that  in  some  cases  (distinctively  vital  processes)  the  motion 
of  particles  in  an  organism,  say  an  Amoeba,  neither  follows 
from  nor  conforms  to  the  motion  of  particles  in  an  inorganic 
system^  such  as,  let  us  say,  a  whirlpool. 

It  may  be  justly  said  that  if  Biology  requires  categories 
of  its  owTi,  it  should  be  able  to  give  some  indication  of  what 
they  are.  They  may  not  be  clear  as  yet,  the  science  is  so 
young,  but  they  should  be  emerging.  And  surely  some  of 
them  are  beginning  to  be  discerned.  First,  there  is  the  fact 
of  organic  retention,  the  capacity  of  enregistering  experience, 
garnering  the  past,  capitalising  gains.  We  see  this  in  the 
results  of  training  and  habituation,  in  the  establishment  of 
organic  rhythms  or  periodicities,  in  the  organisation  of  steps 
which  have  proved  adaptive,  in  the  organic  inertia  which 
the  hereditary  relation  reveals.  Second,  there  is  the  self- 
maintaining,  self-preserving,  and  purposiveness  of  the  organ- 
ism. Life  has  been  defined  as  ^'  effective  response  ",  but  it  is 
more;  it  is  effective  prospectively  as  well  as  immediately, 
it  is  effective  not  only  in  external  action,  but  in  self-preser- 
vation. We  see  in  the  developing  organism  a  remarkable 
^  conativeness ',  especially  when  what  is  artificially  disar- 
ranged is  put  to  rights  again.  We  see  in  the  simplest  be- 
haviour, where  the  meaning  of  things  counts,  an  element  of 
pre-awareness  that  is  essentially  teleological.  Third,  there  is 
the  fact  of  variability,  the  capacity  and  habit  of  giving  origin 
to  the  new. 


166  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

§  8.     Retrospect. 

How  does  the  ^  biological  ^  position  differ  from  the  theories 
already  illustrated?  The  first  theory  was  that  the  activity 
of  living  creatures  stands  apart  from  that  of  not-living  things 
only  in  being  very  much  more  complex.  The  '  biological ' 
view  recognises  that  many  describable  chemical  and  physi- 
cal processes  occur  in  the  living  body;  and  admits  that  many 
more  such  processes — and  much  more  complicated  ones — 
will  be  eventually  sifted  out, — but  insists  that  even  if  the 
ledger  of  all  the  chemical  and  physical  transactions  were 
complete,  it  would  not  furnish  an  account  of  the  creature's 
life  from  day  to  day,  nor  of  its  behaviour,  nor  of  its  individ- 
ual development,  nor  of  its  racial  evolution;  and  why  not? 
Because  the  concepts  of  chemistry  and  physics  fail  to  grip. 
This  is  what  one  of  the  acutest  and  best-informed  of  modern 
methodologists.  Professor  Enriques,  means  by  saying: 
"  The  mechanical  hypothesis  does  not  appear  to  be  incom- 
patible with  the  phenomena  of  life,  but  it  is  unimportant 
for  the  study  of  these  phenomena"  (1914,  p.  385).  And 
again  he  speaks  of  *^  the  irrelevancy  of  the  mechanical  ex- 
planation in  biology"  (1914,  p.  384).  And  why  do  the 
chemico-physical  formula  fail  to  grip  the  essential  features 
of  the  activity  we  call  living  ?  Not  because  the  processes  in- 
volved are  too  diflScult  or  too  complex — but  because  they 
demand  a  different  order  of  scientific  explanation. 

The  second  theory  was  that  living  creatures  have  exclu- 
sive possession  of  a  peculiar  form  of  energy  in  a  line  with 
the  other  forms  of  energy,  like  heat  and  electricity,  and 
not  in  any  way  mystical,  but  amenable  to  experimental 
and  mathematical  treatment.  The  ^  biological '  position  dif- 
fers from  this  in  refraining   (in  the  meantime)   from  any 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  167 

hypothesis  as  to  the  nature  of  the  difference  between  stone 
and  tree,  between  boomerang  and  homing  bird,  in  being 
content  with  holding  to  the  fact  that  new  aspects  of  reality 
have  somehow  risen  to  the  surface  and  demand  other  than 
mechanical  formulation.  Learning,  choosing,  struggling,  and 
the  like  appear  to  transcend  mechanism. 

The  third  theory  asserts  that  something  not  really  belong- 
ing to  the  natural  order,  something  not  material,  is  present 
in  living  creatures,  informing  them,  underpinning  them, 
inspiring  them.  The  ^  biological '  view  differs  from  this  in 
keeping  to  the  idea  of  continuity,  in  supposing  that  aspects 
of  reality  which  in  azoic  days  were  only  implicit  became 
explicit  in  the  first  living  creatures,  and  have  become  more 
and  more  patent  as  evolution  has  gone  on. 

We  are  here  in  the  diflScult  position  of  agreeing  on  the 
one  hand  with  the  positive  vitalists  in  their  emphasis  on 
the  uniqueness  of  organisms  as  compared  with  not-living 
things,  and  yet  of  disagreeing  with  them  (or  many  of 
them)  in  their  emphasis  on  discontinuity.  It  is  plain  from 
our  argument  that  our  understanding  of  the  facts  of  the 
case  leads  us  to  a  high  appreciation  of  the  apartness  of 
organisms  and  to  a  conviction  that  living  transcends  all 
mechanical  description,  but  we  are  not  compelled  by  this 
to  a  rejection  of  the  central  idea  of  Evolution,  which  is 
continuity. 

To  ignore  distinctions  yields  false  simplicity;  to  exag- 
gerate them  yields  false  complexity.  There  is  very  little 
individuality  in  the  inorganic  domain,  but  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  gold  and  iron,  phosphorus  and  sulphur, 
oxygen  and  nitrogen  remain  quite  distinct  things  with  prop- 
erties and  ways  of  their  own,  specific  like  organisms,  "  each 
something  of  a  law  unto  itself  '\     There  are,  indeed,  logical 


168  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

relationships  between  the  elements  as  members  of  a  system, 
and  the  radio-active  elements  are  known  to  be  transmuting 
themselves,  but  these  facts  also  bear  out  our  point  that  there 
is  more  analogy  between  the  inorganic  and  the  organic  than 
at  first  appears.  And  just  as  the  breeder  and  cultivator  help 
to  make  new  animals  and  plants/ so  the  synthetic  chemist 
makes  camphor  and  sugar,  rubber  and  alizarin,  and  the 
physicist  as  engineer  makes  the  cleverest  machines  which 
borrow  some  of  his  own  individuality.  The  breeder  works 
mainly  by  analysis,  the  chemist  by  synthesis,  but  both  are 
creative.  We  agree  with  those  thinkers,  like  Lloyd  Morgan, 
who  have  tried  to  link  on  the  synthetic  tendency  which 
they  detect  in  the  formation  of  crystals  and  the  building 
up  of  carbon  compounds  to  the  synthetic  tendency  which 
•     they  see  in  organic  development.     Lloyd  Morgan  refers  to 

1^       the  teaching  of  Nernst  that,  while  a  large  number  of  physical 
properties   are  clearly   additive,   there   are   other   properties 

/     n   which  are  non-additive,  and  should  be  called  constitutive. 

/  ^      "  The  kind  of  influence  of  the  atom  in  a  compound  is  pri- 

[iTS  'Diarily   dependent    upon   the    mode    of   its   union,    that    is, 
W^.    upon  the  constitution  and  configuration  of  the  compound" 

'  ,  /     (ISTernst,   Theoretical   Chemistry.     Translated  by  Lehfeldt. 

•^'^    Quoted  in  The  New  Realism,  New  York,'  1912,  p.  238). 

Instead,  then,  of  seeking  to  interpolate  a  new  agency — 
non-material  and  not  perceptual — we  express  the  fact  that 
living  is  not  explicable  in  terms  of  matter  and  motion  by 
saying  that  all  organisms — known  to  our  senses  as  colloca- 
tions of  protoplasm — reveal  new  aspects  of  reality,  tran- 
scending mechanical  formulation.  That  these  new  aspects  of 
reality  are  analogous  to  those  which  are  exhibited  by  the 
higher  organisms — namely,  intelligence  and  personality — 
may  by  and  by  appear,   for  our  central  idea   is  that  the 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  169 

organism  is  a  psycho-physical  individuality.  That  they 
probably  have  their  infra-conscious  and  implicit  analogues 
in  the  domain  of  the  inorganic  is  our  metaphysical  hypothe- 
sis, which  is  but  little  different  from  the  Aristotelian  dictum 
that  there  is  nothing  in  the  end  which  was  not  also  in  kind 
in  the  beginning; — but  little  different  from  the  doctrine  that 
in  the  beginning  was  Mind. 

-  §  9.    Why  Cannot  the  Controversy  between  Mechanistic 
and  Vitalistic  Theory  he  Ended? 

The  persistence  of  the  controversy  between  mechanism 
and  vitalism  has  often  been  the  subject  of  remark.  Aristotle 
was  a  vitalist  and  his  biology  was  in  conscious  opposition 
to  the  dogmatic  mechanism  of  the  school  of  Democritus. 
Yet  we  are  facing  the  same  antithesis  to-day.  Whence  this 
terrible  longevity  ? 

Part  of  the  answer  is  probably  to  be  found  in  the  intrinsic 
difficulty  of  the  problem  of  vital  activity,  which  seems  to 
be  midway  between  mechanical  uniformity  and  our  own  con- 
scious purposing.  The  secret  of  life  is  baffling,  receding 
as  we  approach.  Perhaps  when  it  seems  almost  within  the 
physiologist's  reach,  it  is  farthest  away.  Perhaps,  as  Berg- 
son  says,  our  intelligence  is  not  suited  for  this  quest,  and 
we  get  nearest  life  in  sympathy. 

But  apart  from  the  unanswered  question:  What  is  the 
essential  difference  between  the  Amceba  and  the  crystal, 
between  the  bird  and  the  boomerang,  is  there  not  something 
strange  in  the  historical  oscillations  of  opinion  between 
mechanistic  and  vitalistic  interpretation  of  the  living  or- 
ganism? ISTow  it  is  a  machine  and  again  it  is  a  spirit, 
now  an  automaton  and  again  a  free  agent,  now  an  engine 
and  again  an  entelechy.    Why  does  the  pendulum  of  reflcc- 


170  THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE 

tion  swing  so  ?  It  is  partly  because  new  knowledge  always 
rewards  the  prosecution  of  chemico-physical  analysis,  and 
the  investigators,  flushed  with  success,  insist  on  premature 
generalisation.  It  is  partly  because  vitalism  is  apt  to  be- 
come vague  and  mystical,  provoking  a  positivist  recoil  which 
is,  within  its  limits,  quite  wholesome. 

According  to  Prof.  W.  E.  Ritter,  vitalism  is  the  lineal  de- 
scendant of  early  animism,  sharing  with  it  the  assumption  of 
non-material,  essentially  extra-corporeal  forces  or  principles 
to  explain  observed  phenomena.  Similarly,  materialism  is 
the  lineal  descendant  of  early  magic,  sharing  with  it  the  as- 
sumption of  crediting  observed  bodies  with  qualities  which 
are  not  verifiable.  ''  Both  attempt  to  explain  everything  in 
terms  of  '  something  else  \  and  this  in  essence  amounts  to  a 
denial  of  the  reality  of  the  organic  beings  which  we  actually 
see  and  deal  with"  (Ritter,  1911,  p.  441). 

SUMMABT. 

It  is  plain  that  at  present  chemical  and  physical  formulations  do 
not  suffice  to  answer  biological  questions,  do  not  adequately  cover 
what  is  distinctive  in  the  functions,  behaviour,  development,  and 
evolution  of  living  creatures.  But  this  does  not  in  itself  prove  the 
validity  of  any  of  the  various  forms  of  positive  vitalism.  These 
must  be  considered  on  their  merits. 

(a)  Some  have  maintained  that  mechanistic  formulation  is  not 
exhaustive  even  within  the  domain  of  the  inorganic.  If  so  it  will 
be  a  fortiori  inadequate  in  the  realm  of  organisms,  (b)  Others, 
while  admitting  that  we  cannot  now  translate  vital  processes  into 
terms  of  any  known  chemistry  and  physics,  suggest  that  we  may 
be  able  to  do  so  eventually.  The  concepts  of  chemistry  and  physics 
may  have  to  be  modified.  But  we  can  only  discuss  the  sciences  as 
we  know  them  now.  (c)  Others,  again,  maintain  that  it  is  mind 
that  makes  all  the  difference.  But  the  problem  "  Vitalism  or 
Mechanism?"  is  the  same  for  plants  as  for  animals,  and  we  do  not 
know  anything  about  the  mind  of  plants. 

It  may  be  said  that  there  are  three  grades  of  vitalism.     (1)    The 


THE  UNIQUENESS  OF  LIFE  171 

first  finds  the  differentia  of  organisms  in  the  greater  complexity 
of  their  configurations  or  collocations  of  elementary  particles. 
Living  creatures  are  apart,  but  they  do  not  require  new  concepts 
(an  autonomous  science)  for  their  description.  They  only  require 
separate  laboratories  fcr  their  study.  (2)  The  second  vitalistic 
theoery  holds  that  organisms  have  a  monopoly  of  some  peculiar  phys- 
ical energy  or  energies  in  a  line  with,  say,  electricity.  (3)  The 
third  theory — the  only  thoroughgoing  vitalism — postulates  a  non- 
perceptual  vital  agency,  associated  with  organisms,  operating 
actively  in  certain  cases,  directing  the  chemico-physical  processes, 
so  that  their  results  are  different  from  what  they  would  have  been 
apart  from  intervention.  The  finest  expression  of  this  view  is 
Driesch's  doctrine  of  Entelechy,  the  advantages  and  difficulties  of 
which  must  be  carefully  considered. 

Perhaps  it  is  safer  to  be  content  with  a  descriptive  or  method- 
ological vitalism — that  is,  with  maintaining  that  in  describing  organ- 
isms we  require  ultra-mechanical  concepts.  But  if  the  word  vitahsm 
is  taken  to  imply  dualism  and  intervention,  we  may  call  our  posi- 
tion simply  biological  or  organismal.  The  central  idea  is  that  of 
the  organism  as  a  psycho-physical  individuality  which  has  enreg- 
istered  within  itself  the  gains  of  experience  and  experiment,  and 
has  ever  its  conative  bow  bent  towards  the  future.  Instead  of 
trying  to  interpolate  a  new  agency,  may  we  not  simply  recognise 
that  organisms  reveal  certain  aspects  of  reality  which  are  not 
apparent  in  the  domain  of  the  inorganic? 


LECTURE  VI. 
ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUE. 


LECTUEE  VI. 
ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

§  1.  What  Is  'Behaviour?  §  2.  Diverse  Views  as  to  Animal  Be- 
haviour. §  3.  Activities  of  Unicellular  Organisms.  §  4.  Spe- 
cial Case  of  Shell-building  among  Arenaceous  Foraminifera 
§  5.  Reflex  Actions.  §  6.  Tropisms.  §  7.  Non-intelligent 
Experimentation.  §  8.  Instinctive  Behaviour.  §  9.  Theories 
of  Instinct.  §  10.  Evidence  of  Intelligent  Behaviour.  §  11. 
Secondary  Simplifications  of  Behaviour.  §  12.  Rational  Con- 
duct.    §  13.    General  Impressions  of  Animal  Behaviour. 

In  our  preceding  studies  we  reached  the  conclusion  that 
a  matter-and-motion  description  of  living  creatures  is  far 
from  being  adequate,  that  it  does  not  grip  the  kernel.  While 
organisms  are  collocations  of  matter  and  energy,  there  has 
welled  up  within  them  a  new  aspect  of  reality  which  de- 
mands other  than  mechanical,  chemical,  and  physical  con- 
cepts. Wherein  the  newness  precisely  consists  we  have  not 
discovered;  but  we  recognise  the  living  creature  as  a  historic 
being  which  has  enregistered  the  experiences  and  experi- 
ments of  the  past,  which  trades  to  good  purpose  with  time, 
which  has  its  conative  bow  often  bent.  In  the  hope  of  a 
further  appreciation  of  the  significance  of  life  we  turn  now 
to  a  more  systematic  consideration  of  animal  behaviour. 

§  1.    What  Is  Behaviour? 

The  movements  of  the  planets  in  their  courses  afford  an 
object-lesson  of  orderliness  on  a  grand  scale,  and  yet  the  least 
in  the  realm  of  organisms  is  greater  than  they — in  being 
an  agent.     The  movements  of  a  rolling  stone  are  completely 

175 


176  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

determined  by  its  momentum  and  the  circumstances,  but 
there  is  a  spice  of  unpredictability  in  the  ways  of  most 
living  creatures.  The  unexpected  often  happens.  There  are 
indeed  uniformities  of  sequence  in  the  reactions  of  organisms, 
otherwise  no  science  of  behaviour  were  possible,  but  there 
is  an  undeniable  appearance  of  free  agency.  It  is  inter- 
esting to  watch  under  the  microscope  the  Brownian  move- 
ment seen  when  minute  granules  of  sepia  or  the  like  are 
jostled  hither  and  thither,  probably  by  the  invisible  ions 
which  abut  against  them,  but  the  scene  changes  in  character 
when  we  put  in  a  vigorous  unicellular  organism.  It  does 
not  'take  charge'  like  a  gun  torn  from  its  attachment  on 
board  ship;  it  commands  its  course.  Only  in  the  realm  of 
organisms  is  there  true  behaviour — in  which  the  creature 
is  an  agent  and  exhibits  a  correlated  or  concatenated  series 
of  acts,  effective  towards  some  definite  result,  favourable  to 
the  continuance  and  harmony  of  vital  processes. 

There  are  two  master-activities  in  the  animal  organism — 
for  the  sake  of  which  life  is  worth  living — movement  and 
feeling,  contractility  and  irritability,  the  functions  in  most 
cases  of  the  muscular  and  nervous  systems  respectively. 
These  master-activities  are  kept  agoing,  the  relevant  struc- 
tures are  kept  in  working  order,  by  the  other  everyday  func- 
tions of  nutrition,  circulation,  respiration,  excretion,  and  so 
on ;  never  forgetting,  in  connection  with  Vertebrates  at  least, 
the  fundamental  trigger-pulling  and  regulative  function  of 
the  organs  of  internal  secretion.  These  everyday  functions 
are  the  pre-conditions  of  behaviour ;  and  growth  and  maturity 
may  also  condition  behaviour.  But  behaviour  itself  is  much 
more,  it  means  that  the  organism  is  an  agent  and  that  it 
exhibits  a  correlated  or  concatenated  series  of  actions. 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  177 

§  2.    Diverse  Views  as  to  Animal  Behaviour. 

The  difficulty  of  rightly  interpreting  the  observed  be- 
haviour of  animals  is  confessedly  great.  It  is  not  easy  for 
us  to  get  mentally  near  them.  In  many  cases  the  structure 
of  their  body  in  general  and  of  their  nervous  system  in  par- 
ticular is  very  different  from  ours;  their  sense-organs  are 
often  on  another  plan,  and  there  are  some  whose  functions 
we  do  not  yet  know;  such  words  as  a  few  of  the  higher 
animals  have,  we  can  only  vaguely  understand.  How  are 
we  to  get  into  mental  contact  with  ants  and  bees?  And 
even  for  more  accessible  animals,  like  horse  and  dog,  there 
is  a  great  difficulty  involved  in  the  simple  fact  that  all  our 
psychological  terms  are  saturated  with  human  meaning. 

Some  investigators  have  found  a  short  and  easy  way  out 
of  difficulties  by  dogmatically  declaring  that  there  is  no  more 
mind  among  animals  than  there  is  among  plants,  and  that 
the  sensible  course  is  to  keep  to  physiological  description. 
If  that  suffices  for  giving  an  account  of  the  bryony  climbing 
up  the  hedge  with  its  exquisitely  tactile  and  adaptively 
motile  tendrils,  will  it  not  serve  for  the  sea-urchin  climbing 
up  the  rock,  the  squirrel  climbing  up  the  tree?  This  is 
the  extreme  of  over-simplicity.  It  was  indeed  a  wise  saying 
of  Spinoza : — "  ISTo  one  has  yet  learned  from  experience  what 
the  body  regarded  purely  as  a  body  is  able  to  do  in  accord- 
ance with  its  own  natural  laws,  or  what  it  cannot  do  ",  but 
it  seems  to  most  naturalists  to  make  the  behaviour  of  higher 
animals  magical  if  we  do  not  credit  them  with  an  aware- 
ness and  pre-awareness  of  meaning. 

There  are  others  who  think  that  we  get  nearer  the  truth 
the  more  anthropomorphic  we  are,  who  believe  that  the 
behaviour  of  all  animals  shows  evidence  of  mind.     That  is 


178  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

to  say,  the  description  that  we  give  of  an  animal^s  behaviour, 
or  of  critical  corners  in  it  at  least,  is  bound  to  be  inadequate 
unless  we  use  psychical  terms.  This  is  the  other  extreme. 
It  was  expressed  by  Hume  when  he  said :  ^  'No  truth  appears 
to  be  more  evident  than  that  beasts  are  endowed  with  thought 
and  reason  as  well  as  men."  That  may  be  tenable  generosity 
for  horse  and  dog,  but  it  cannot  hold  good  for  starfish  and 
earthworm. 

How  are  we  to  avoid  the  stern  over-parsimony  of  Descartes 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  delicious  over-generosity  of  Mon- 
taigne on  the  other?  We  must  not  give  a  false  simplicity 
to  the  facts  by  reducing  the  animal  to  the  level  of  an  auto- 
matic machine,  but  we  must  not  read  the  man  into  the 
beast  without  critical  hesitation.  The  hive-bees  that  make 
the  honeycomb  so  symmetrically  are  not  automatic  machines, 
but  neither  are  they  little  geometricians. 

To  keep  to  the  via  media  of  good  sense  must  always  be 
difficult,  for  the  assumption  of  mind  in  an  animal  or  of  a 
psychological  aspect  in  the  behaviour  of  an  animal  cannot 
be  demonstrated.  There  is  no  litmus  paper  for  mentality. 
^^  Every  statement,"  says  Bethe,  ''  that  another  being  pos- 
sesses psychic  qualities  is  a  conclusion  from  analogy,  not  a 
certainty ;  it  is  a  matter  of  faith."  Our  assumption  of  mind 
in  our  fellow-men  rests  on  the  same  sort  of  basis  (though 
with  inter-subjective  corroborations)  ;  it  is  a  necessary  hy- 
pothesis and  one  that  works.  Is  not  a  similar  hypothesis 
indispensable  in  regard  to  animals  if  we  are  to  understand 
them  and  make  the  most  of  them?  But  animal  behaviour 
has  such  a  long  gamut  that  each  case  must  be  judged  on 
its  own  merits.  We  ask  in  each  case  whether  we  can  make 
sense  of  what  we  see  without  assuming  mental  factors, 
whether  we  can  adequately  describe  what  we  see  without 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  179 

using  psychological  terms.  We  inquire  into  the  creature's 
power  of  profiting  by  experience,  as  to  its  pursuance  uf  trial- 
and-error  methods.  The  growtli  of  experimental  psychology 
has  furnished  many  a  welcome  check  to  interpretations,  show- 
ing some  to  be  too  simple  and  others  to  be  too  generous. 
Some  weight  will  also  be  attached  to  the  degree  in  which 
the  nervous  system  of  tbe  animal  in  question  resembles  ours, 
or  that  of  some  types  previously  judged  to  be  "capable  of, 
let  us  say,  making  an  inference. 

The  sound  practical  rule  is  to  try  to  re-describe  the  ob- 
served behaviour  in  as  simple  terms  as  possible  without  leav- 
ing out  any  essential  feature.  As  Prof.  Lloyd  Morgan  has 
put  it,  "  In  no  case  may  we  interpret  an  action  as  the  out- 
come of  the  exercise  of  a  higher  psychical  faculty,  if  it 
can  be  interpreted  as  the  outcome  of  the  exercise  of  one 
which  stands  lower  in  the  psychological  scale  "  (1894,  p.  53). 
The  simplest  description  is  not  necessarily  the  true  one,  as  we 
know  in  human  affairs ;  but  the  scientific  method  is  to  hold 
to  it  till  facts  force  us  to  give  it  up. 

§  3.     Activities  of  Unicellidar  Organisms. 

Many  unicellular  organisms  show  restless  movements 
which  may  bo  ranked  at  the  foot  of  the  inclined  plane  of 
behaviour.  As  long  as  certain  combustible  materials  within 
the  organism  hold  out,  and  as  long  as  certain  external  stimuli 
continue  to  act,  the  creatures  continue  moving;  and  we  see 
them  responding  to  various  calls  which  summon  them  now 
to  one  side  and  now  to  the  other.  This  is  like  the  unworked 
ore  of  behaviour,  and  not  much  beyond  the  level  of  everyday 
internal  activities.  We  may  speak  of  it  as  general  organismal 
activity  among  unicellulars. 

But  even  among  the  simplest  creatures  we  notice  three 


180  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

facts : — (1)  The  movements  of  one  animalcule  are  often  quite 
different  from  those  of  another,  even  in  the  same  medium: 
so  soon  is  the  note  of  individuality  struck.  (2)  The  restless 
roving  is  not  at  random,  and  when  food  is  scarce  it  is  in- 
tensified, passing  insensibly  into  'hunting'.  (3)  Many  of 
the  simplest  animals  exhibit  quite  definite  reactions  to  stim- 
uli. They  respond  by  particular  movements  to  changes  in 
temperature,  in  illumination,  and  in  the  chemical  composition 
of  the  medium.  As  there  is  no  nervous  system,  but  simply 
a  specific  inborn  protoplasmic  organisation,  we  may  use  the 
phrase  unicellular  organic  reaction  for  what  is  in  a  far-off 
way  comparable  to  the  reflex  action  of  a  higher  animal. 

The  adherents  of  the  mechanistic  school  point  out  that  the 
Amoeba  is  a  reservoir  of  energy  which  is  tapped  by  various 
stimuli — such  as  the  freshness  of  the  water,  the  chemical 
composition,  the  temperature,  and  the  illumination.  Its 
locomotion  represents  the  natural  outflow  of  the  stored  en- 
ergy, and  the  direction  of  its  journeying  depends  on  the  con- 
tinually varying  stimuli  with  which  it  meets.  But  when  we 
really  study  the  Amoeba,  as  Professor  Jennings  (1906)  has 
done,  the  possibility  of  any  simple  description  of  its  doings 
disappears.  Its  general  condition  has  much  to  do  with  its 
reactions ;  the  direction  of  movement  is  not  wholly  deter- 
mined by  the  position  of  the  stimulus  or  the  part  of  the  body 
on  which  it  acts;  the  moving  Amoeba  shows  in  its  transient 
differentiation  a  trafficking  with  time;  what  it  has  done  is 
an  important  factor  in  determining  what  it  will  do ;  the 
types  of  reaction  are  not  stereotyped ;  it  is  not  possible  to 
predict  the  movements  from  a  knowledge  of  the  direct  re- 
sults of  the  external  influence.  So  the  life  of  the  Amoeba 
is  not  such  a  simple  affair  as  some  would  make  out.  We 
require   a   kind  of   description   diffefrent   from   that   which 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  181 

suffices  for  the  potassium  pill  rushing  about  on  the  surface 
of  the  water. 

The  Amoeba  encounters  a  hurtful  stimulating  influence 
affecting  part  of  the  cell;  it  withdraws  the  stimulated  part, 
and  that  is  related  to  the  localisation  of  the  influence.  But 
it  proceeds  to  send  forth  a  finger-like  process  of  its  living 
matter  in  a  new  direction,  and  the  issue  of  this  is  determined 
by  internal  conditions.  ^'  If  the  new  direction  of  movement 
leads  to  further  stimulation,  a  new  trial  is  made.  Such 
trials  are  repeated  till  either  there  is  no  further  stimulation, 
or  if  it  is  not  possible  to  escape  completely,  until  the  stimu- 
lation falls  on  the  posterior  end,  and  the  animal  is  retracted 
directly  from  the  source  of  stimulation  '^  (Jennings,  1906, 
p.  22).  The  importance  of  this  is  great.  A  direction  is 
taken  because  it  relieves  the  Amoeba  from  hurtful  stimula- 
tion. There  is,  Jennings  says,  "  selection  from  among  the 
conditions  produced  by  varied  movements ".  ^'  Thus  the 
behaviour  of  Amoeba  is  directly  adaptive ;  it  tends  to  preserve 
the  life  of  the  animal  and  to  aid  it  in  carrying  on  its  normal 
activities  "  (p.  23). 

"  The  writer  is  thoroughly  convinced,  after  long  study 
of  the  behaviour  of  this  organism,  that  if  Amoeba  were  a 
large  animal,  so  as  to  come  within  the  everyday  experience 
of  human  beings,  its  behaviour  would  at  once  call  forth  the 
attribution  to  it  of  states  of  pleasure  and  pain,  of  hunger, 
desire,  and  the  like,  on  precisely  the  same  basis  as  we 
attribute  these  things  to  the  dog.  This  natural  recognition 
is  exactly  what  Mlinsterberg  {Grundziige  der  Psychologie, 
Bd.  I.,  1900)  has  emphasised  as  the  test  of  a  subject.  In 
conducting  objective  investigations  we  train  ourselves  to  sup- 
press this  impression,  but  thorough  investigation  tends  to 
restore  it  stronger  than  at  first"  (p.  336). 


182  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

Miss  Washburn  (1909,  p.  41)  has  inquired  into  the  nature 
of  the  Amoeba's  mind,  if  haply  it  has  one.  There  cannot  be 
more  than  three  or  four  qualitatively  different  elements  in 
its  experience;  there  is  no  evidence  of  memory  images;  it 
probably  has  not  more  than  flashes  of  consciousness.  The 
problem  of  the  Amoeba's  mind  can  wait,  but  it  seems  to  us 
clear  that  when  we  allow  as  much  as  possible  to  physical 
properties  (such  as  we  see  in  the  improvement  of  a  violin 
in  the  hands  of  a  master),  to  the  response  of  chemical  bodies 
to  certain  stimuli  and  no  others  (such  as  we  see  in  photogra- 
phy), to  the  purely  physiological  registration  of  experience 
(such  as  we  know  in  the  improvement  of  well-exercised 
muscles),  there  is  a  new  aspect  of  reality  appearing  in  the 
behaviour  of  even  an  Amoeba. 

The  slipper-animalcule,  Paramecium,  abundant  in  water 
with  decaying  marsh  plants  in  it,  is  a  minute,  cigar-shaped, 
ciliated  Infusorian,  just  visible  to  the  naked  eye  as  an 
elongated  whitish  particle.  Its  rudimentary  but  very  efl'ec- 
tive  behaviour  has  been  much  studied,  especially  by  Prof. 
H.  S.  Jennings.  One  of  the  commonest  episodes  is  that  in 
its  swimming  the  Paramecium  meets  with  something  in- 
jurious in  the  water,  and  exhibits  what  is  called  the  ^'  avoid- 
ing reaction  ".  It  reverses  the  action  of  its  cilia  and  swims 
away  from  the  stimulus ;  at  a  certain  distance  it  moves  so 
as  to  swing  its  anterior  end  in  a  circle,  testing  the  water  in 
different  directions;  when  the  sample  from  a  certain  direc- 
tion no  longer  contains  the  obnoxious  influence,  the  Para- 
mecium goes  ahead  again  in  that  direction,  and  may  have 
a  free  course  till  the  next  stimulus  is  experienced.  When 
the  original  stimulus  is  due  to  some  mechanical  obstacle, 
Paramecium  can  get  no  hint  from  testing  the  water;  it  ''  tries 
going  ahead  in  various  directions,  till  it  finds  one  in  which 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  183 

there  is  no  further  obstacle  to  progress.  In  this  direction  it 
continues.  Through  systematically  testing  the  surroundings, 
by  swinging  the  anterior  end  in  a  circle,  and  through  per- 
forming the  entire  reaction  repeatedly,  the  infusorian  is 
bound  in  time  to  find  any  existing  egress  from  the  difficulties 
even  though  it  be  but  a  narrow  and  tortuous  passageway  " 
(Jennings,  1906,  p.  49). 

The  behaviour  of  Paramecium  is  very  instructive  in  its 
combination  of  effectiveness  and  simplicity.  It  drives  itself 
forward  in  a  narrow  spiral,  revolving  on  its  long  axis  and 
swerving  a  little  towards  the  aboral  side — such  is  its 
action  system ;  and  most  of  its  behaviour  consists  of  slight 
variations  on  this  simple  tune.  "  It  constantly  feels  its  way 
about,  trying  in  a  systematic  way  all  sorts  of  conditions, 
and  retiring  from  those  that  are  harmful.  Its  behaviour 
is  in  principle  much  like  that  of  a  blind  and  deaf  person, 
or  one  that  feels  his  way  about  in  the  dark.  It  is  a  con- 
tinual process  of  proving  all  things  and  holding  to  that 
which  is  good"  (Jennings,  1906,  p.  106). 

^^  The  behaviour  and  reactions  of  Paramecium  consist  on 
the  whole  in  performing  movements  which  subject  the  or- 
ganism to  varied  conditions  (using  this  word  in  the  widest 
sense),  with  rejection  of  certain  of  these  conditions,  and 
retention  of  others.  It  may  be  characterized  briefly  as  a 
selection  from  among  the  varied  conditions  brought  about 
by  varied  movements"  (Jennings,  1906,  p.  108).  On  the 
whole  the  animalcule  rejects  or  avoids  what  is  injurious  and 
accepts  or  seeks  what  is  beneficial,  just  as  higher  animals 
and  men  do.  The  behaviour  is  adaptive  and  purposive.  In- 
deed Jennings  goes  the  length  of  saying:  "  In  no  other  group 
of  organisms  does  the  method  of  trial  and  error  so  completely 
dominate  behaviour,  perhaps,  as  in  the  Infusoria." 


184  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

A  fact  of  great  interest  has  been  established  by  Professor 
Jennings,  that  the  behaviour  of  unicellular  organisms  is 
modifiable  by  experience.  He  has  experimented,  for  instance, 
with  a  trumpet-shaped  ciliated  Infusorian  called  Stentor 
which  abounds  in  marshy  pools,  attaching  itself  by  the  nar- 
row end  to  a  water-weed,  and  surrounding  the  lower  half  of 
its  body  with  a  mucus-like  sheath,  the  so-called  tube.  A 
cloud  of  carmine  particles  is  introduced  into  the  water- 
currents  passing  to  the  ciliated  mouth  of  the  Stentor.  It 
bends  to  the  aboral  side,  twisting  on  its  stalk  two  or  three 
times  as  it  bends,  and  thus  often  avoids  the  cloud  of  particles. 
That  is  answer  one.  But  if  the  particles  continue  to  come, 
the  ciliary  movement  is  suddenly  reversed  and  the  water  is 
driven  away  from  the  mouth.  This  may  be  repeated  two 
or  three  times,  and  is  answer  two.  If  the  Stentor  does  not 
get  rid  of  the  obnoxious  stimulation  in  either  of  these  two 
ways,  it  contracts  into  its  tube  and  suspends  activity,  this 
being  answer  three.  After  half  a  minute  or  so  it  re-expands, 
and  if  the  carmine  particles  still  reach  it,  it  contracts  again. 
It  will  do  this  many  times,  and  after  each  contraction  it 
stays  a  little  longer  in  its  tube  than  it  did  before.  Finally, 
if  no  improvement  in  circumstances  rewards  its  trials,  it 
breaks  its  attachment  and  swims  forwards  or  backwards 
away  from  its  tube.  And  this  is  answer  four.  ^^  The  stim- 
ulus and  other  external  conditions  remaining  the  same,  the 
organism  responds  by  a  series  of  reactions  becoming  of  more 
and  more  pronounced  character,  until  by  one  of  them  it  rids 
itself  of  the  stimulation"  (p.  176).  "The  same  individual 
does  not  always  behave  in  the  same  way  under  the  same 
external  conditions,  but  the  behaviour  depends  upon  the 
physiological  condition  of  the  animal.  The  reaction  to  any 
given  stimulus  is  modified  by  the  past  experience  of  the  ani- 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  185 

mal,  and  the  modifications  are  regulatory,  not  haphazard, 
in  character.  The  phenomena  are  thus  similar  to  those  shown 
in  the  '  learning  '  of  higher  organisms,  save  that  the  modifica- 
tions depend  upon  less  complex  relations  and  last  a  shorter 
time"  (p.  179).  Our  view  of  living  creatures  must  make 
room  for  the  new  fact  that  behaviour  reaches  this  level  among 
the  unicellulars. 

Among  unicellulars,  then,  we  see  the  beginning  of  explor- 
ing and  testing,  the  beginning  of  actual  ^  hunting ',  and  this 
is  on  the  main  line  of  advance.  We  see,  also,  the  enregis- 
tration  of  particular  reactions  to  stimuli,  an  organisation  of 
behaviour  that  is  economical  and  in  its  rapidity  of  response 
often  life-saving.  But  we  see,  also,  a  selection  of  reactions, 
a  trying  of  one  after  the  other  till  haply  one  meets  the  needs 
of  the  case,  and  this  ^  trial-and-error '  method  is  likewise 
on  the  main  line  of  advance. 

§  4.    Special  Case  of  Shell-building  among  Arenaceous 

Foraminifera. 

In  the  shell-building  of  some  of  the  so-called  arenaceous 
Foraminifera  Mr.  E.  A.  Heron-Allen  and  Mr.  A.  Earland 
have  described  (1915)  what  looks  like  constructive  skill  in 
the  use  of  materials.  As  every  one  knows,  many  imicellular 
animals  secrete  shells  of  exquisite  beauty,  the  '  organic  crys- 
tallisation '  of  which  is  as  much  of  an  unsolved  problem  as 
the  adaptive  internal  architecture  of  bones,  but  in  the  case 
of  the  arenaceous  Foraminifera  the  building  materials  are 
found  ready-made  in  the  environment  and  are  utilised  very 
effectively  to  form  a  casing.  The  points  of  special  interest 
are  two, —  (1)  that  a  particular  kind  of  material,  such  as 
sponge-spicules,  is  selected  from  the  surrounding  debris,  from 


186  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

amid  a  multitude  of  apparent  alternatives,  and  (2)  that  it 
is  utilised  in  a  fashion  which  is  interpretablc  as  peculiarly 
adaptive.  The  first  point  may  be  illustrated  by  the  case  of 
Teclinitella  tliompsoni,  which  covers  itself  with  minute  per- 
forated Echinoderm  platelets;  the  second  point  by  the  case 
of  Marsipella  spiralis,  which  arranges  its  encasement  of 
sponge-spicules  in  a  spiral,  doubtless  of  considerable  archi- 
tectural value. 

§  5.     Reflex  Actions, 

Among  simple  multicellular  animals  we  find,  as  among 
the  unicellulars,  abundant  illustrations  of  exploring,  testing, 
and  hunting.  Perhaps  we  may  recognise  more  staying  power, 
persistence,  and  momentum,  advantages  naturally  accruing 
from  the  acquisition  of  a  body. 

But  the  establishment  of  a  nervous  system  opened  the 
way  to  the  organisation  of  reflex  actions,  which  are  the  out- 
come of  hereditarily  prearranged  linkages  of  nerve-cells  and 
muscle-cells.  These  play  an  important  role  in  behaviour. 
The  sea-anemone's  tentacles  close  upon  their  victim;  the 
nestling's  mouth  opens  at  the  touch  of  the  food  in  its  mother's 
beak ;  the  earthworm  withdraws  into  its  burrow  when  it  feels 
the  tremor  of  a  thrush's  footstep ;  we  cough  in  spite  of 
ourselves  when  the  crumb  of  bread  is  going  the  wrong  way, 
and  so  on.  These  reflex  actions  are  uniform  reactions  to 
a  particular  kind  of  external  or  internal  stimulus;  they  are 
exhibited  by  all  animals  of  the  same  kind  in  approximately 
the  same  way,  though  some  individuals  are  quicker  than 
others ;  they  are  independent  of  individual  experience  and 
do  not  require  control  on  the  part  of  the  central  nervous 
system;  they  depend  on  inborn  structural  linkages  of  par- 
ticular sensory  and  particular  motor  nerve-units  or  neurons. 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  187 

In  typical  and  simple  cases,  a  reflex  action  involves  (Ij  the 
receptor  of  a  stimnlns — the  sensory  or  perceptory  nerve-cell 
from  which  impulses  pass  in  to  the  central  nervous  system  ; 
(2)  a  '  motor  '  nerve-cell  which  connects  the  central  nervous 
system  with  a  muscle  or  a  gland;  and  (3)  between  these 
two  a  ^  communicating  \  or  internuncial,  or  ^  associative ' 
nen^e-cell  connecting  them  within  the  nervous  system.  The 
receptor  neurone  has  its  cell-body  outside  of  the  nerve-centre ; 
the  motor  neurone,  with  its  cell-body  within  the  nerve-centre, 
sends  a  nerve-fibre  to  some  peripheral  efi'ector  organ ;  the 
associative  neurone  connects  the  two  others.  Thus  is  formed 
a  ^  reflex  arc ',  the  functional  unit  of  the  nervous  system.  In 
most  cases  the  arrangements  are  more  complex  and  several 
^  reflex  arcs '  become  interlinked.  But  the  point  is  that 
reflex  actions  do  not  require  individual  correlation;  that  is 
pre-established.  Yet  it  is  important  not  to  think  of  reflexes 
too  simply. 

Combination  of  Reflexes  in  Unified  Behaviour,  The  per- 
fection of  reflexes  is  well  illustrated  in  the  behaviour  of 
a  sea-urchin,  which  has  no  nerve-ganglia.  Its  test  is  cov- 
ered with  mobile  spines  and  snapping  blades  (pedicellarinp) 
which  react  in  definite  ways  to  definite  stimuli  and  have  an 
astonishing  independence.  For  a  single  spine  or  pedicellaria 
on  an  isolated  fragment  of  shell  reacts  very  much  as  usual. 
In  the  uninjured  creature  the  spines  and  other  structures  are 
all  connected  by  a  nervous  network  on  the  surface  of  the 
shell,  and  they  act  harmoniously,  working  into  one  another's 
hands,  securing  effective  defence  and  locomotion.  According 
to  von  Uexkiill  the  sea-urchin  is  a  "  republic  of  reflexes  ". 
^^  The  separate  reflex  arcs  are  so  constituted  and  so  put  to- 
gether that  the  simultaneous  but  independent  course  of  the 
reflexes  in  response  to  an  outer  stimulus  produces  a  definite 


188  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

general  action,  just  as  in  animals  in  which  a  common  centre 
produces  the  action."  As  von  Uexkiill  puts  it,  when  a  dog 
runs,  the  animal  moves  its  legs ;  when  a  sea-urchin  crawls, 
the  legs  (spines)  move  the  animal. 

The  astounding  fact  is  the  unification  of  behaviour  that 
may  occur  in  such  a  ''  republic  of  reflexes  ".  When  a  sea- 
urchin  is  placed  upside  dovni,  a  continuation  of  all  the  usual 
reactions  would  cause  it  to  move  on  in  an  inverted  position. 
But  as  von  Uexkiill  has  shown,  the  unusual  physiological 
state  induces  a  thoroughgoing  change  in  the  behaviour  of  the 
spines,  they  depart  altogether  from  routine,  and  work  adap- 
tively  to  the  needs  of  the  organism  as  a  whole,  the  animal 
being  turned  right  again.  This  warns  us  not  to  think  of 
reflexes  woodenly;  and  if  we  need  another  warning  we 
may  get  it  in  the  extraordinarily  subtle  reflex  by  which  a 
flatfish  adjusts  its  coloration  to  that  of  the  immediate  en- 
vironment of  shingle. 

Reflex  Responses  are  Affected  by  the  Physiological  Con- 
dition of  the  Organism.  In  stinging  animals,  such  as  sea- 
anemones  and  medusae,  there  are  numerous  reflex  actions 
of  an  adaptive  kind,  concerned,  for  instance,  with  feeding. 
But  it  has  been  shown  by  Professor  Jennings  and  others  that 
the  reaction  is  not  simply  a  question  of  predetermined  struc- 
ture and  an  external  stimulus.  The  answer  depends  on  the 
relation  of  external  conditions  to  internal  processes.  ''  We 
cannot  predict  how  an  animal  will  react  to  a  given  condition 
unless  we  know  the  state  of  its  internal  physiological  proc- 
esses "  (Jennings,  1906,  p.  231).  Thus,  to  take  a  simple 
case,  a  sea-anemone  cheated  several  times  with  false  food 
ceases  to  exhibit  the  normal  reflex.  Many  a  sea-anemone, 
e.g.^  the  large  Stoichactis  helianthus,  will  remove  food  from 
the  oral  disc  if  it  is  not  hungry.     A  specimen  of  Metridium 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  189 

or  Aiptasia  will  refuse  to  take  bits  of  filter  paper,  though 
it  will  still  take  meat.  "  After  it  has  thus  refused  paper, 
two  or  three  pieces  of  meat  are  given  in  succession,  and 
taken  readily.  Now  the  bit  of  paper  is  placed  again  on  the 
disc,  and  it  too  is  swallowed.  Clearly,  the  uninterrupted 
taking  of  a  number  of  pieces  of  meat  changes  the  physiologi- 
cal condition  in  some  way,  preparing  the  animal  for  the 
taking  of  any  object  with  which  it  comes  in  contact.  One 
cannot  fail  to  note  the  parallelism  with  what  occurs  in  higher 
animals  under  similar  conditions  "  (Jennings,  1906,  p.  226). 
We  see,  then,  that  in  relatively  simple  creatures,  such  as 
sea-anemones  and  starfishes,  which  have  no  nerve-ganglia, 
past  stimuli  and  past  reactions  are  important  factors  in 
determining  present  behaviour.  Thus  an  elongated  sea- 
anemone,  Aiptasia  annulata,  which  lives  in  crevices  beneath 
and  between  stones,  will  bend  into  a  new  position  if  it 
is  touched  too  often,  and  if  it  be  molested  still  further 
will  release  its  foothold  and  move  to  a  new  region  (p.  206). 
In  its  natural  surroundings  it  often  has  to  cramp  its 
body  into  quaint  zigzag  shapes,  and  a  point  of  some 
interest  is  that  this  may  become  habitual  and  may  per- 
sist for  some  time  after  the  creature  is  removed  to  an 
unimpeded  habitat.  This  illustrates  what  is  meant  by 
registration. 

In  his  valuable  study  of  the  behaviour  of  the  earthworm, 
Prof.  H.  S.  Jennings  shows  that  the  response  to  a  stimulus 
depends  on  external  factors  (such  as  the  intensity  and  locali- 
sation of  the  stimulus),  and  on  internal  factors  (such  as 
the  state  of  the  animal  at  the  time,  its  tendency  to  move 
in  a  certain  way,  e.g.,  head  foremost,  and  the  direction  in 
whicli  it  was  crawling  at  the  time).  But  what  is  particu- 
larly interesting  is  the  definite  evidence  that  the  behaviour 


190  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

at  a  given  time  depends  on  past  experiences — on  former  ex- 
ternal conditions  and  on  former  actions. 

Succession  of  Tentative  Reflexes.  Because  of  the  abun- 
dance of  reflexes  in  the  simpler  animals  the  impression  has 
gained  ground  that  behaviour  in  these  lower  reaches  of  life 
is  very  stereotyped.  But  this  impression  requires  critical 
consideration.  When  a  particular  reflex  action  solves  a  par- 
ticular problem  at  a  stroke,  there  is  no  more  to  be  done. 
But  the  problem  is  often  more  difiicult,  and  what  the  creature 
does  is  to  exhibit  varied  movements  and  to  select  certain 
resulting  conditions.  Even  in  such  predominantly  reflex 
creatures  as  sea-urchins,  the  tube-feet,  spines,  and  pedicel- 
larise  may  in  difficult  situations  continue  in  varied  tentative 
movements,  as  if  trying  all  expedients,  and  long  after  the 
original  stimulation  has  ceased.  The  ^  righting '  reaction 
of  an  '  inverted  '  starfish  is  singularly  varied  and  flexible. 
Professor  Preyer  repeatedly  slipped  a  short  india-rubber  tube 
over  one  of  the  arms  of  a  brittle  star,  and  observed  five 
different  ways  in  which  it  was  removed,  including,  it  must 
be  confessed,  as  one  desperate  method,  the  surrender  of  the 
arm  itself.  K^  the  observer  remarked,  ^'  If  one  method  does 
not  help,  another  is  used." 

Professor  Preyer's  experiments  on  pegging  down  starfishes 
(of  course  without  injuring  them)  revealed  extraordinary  flex- 
ibility of  behaviour  and  also  a  shortening  of  the  time  required 
for  escape.  The  number  of  useless  movements,  ''  superfluous 
twistings,  feelings  about,  and  forward  and  backward  mo- 
tions ",  becomes  less  the  oftener  the  individual  has  been 
placed  in  such  a  situation.  If  this  is  true  (Prof.  Jennings 
notes),  we  have  in  so  low  an  animal  as  the  starfish  regulation 
through  the  selection  of  conditions  produced  by  varied  move- 
ments passing  into  a  more  directly  regulatory  action;  in  other 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  191 

words,  what  is  commonly  called  in  higlier  animals  intelli- 
gence'^  (Jennings,  190G,  p.  241).  In  many  cases  we  have 
to  do  with  ^  chain  reflexes  ',  one  phase  leading  on  to  another, 
but  the  fact  is  that  "  in  most  cases  the  succeeding  phase  is 
not  invariably  and  irrevocably  called  up  by  the  preceding 
one''  (Jennings,  p.  251),  the  present  action  depending  upon 
the  entire  physiological  state  of  the  organism,  which,  again, 
is  determined  by  various  factors. 

One  of  the  clearest  results  of  the  modern  study  of  the 
behaviour  of  the  lower  animals  is  that  the  kind  of  action  de- 
pends greatly  on  the  physiological  state  as  a  whole,  which, 
again,  depends  in  part  on  history  and  experiences  That  ex- 
perience can  be  enregistered  in  organisms  with  the  simplest 
of  nervous  systems  or  with  none  is  certain.  Two  individual 
Planarias  (small  ciliated  fresh-water  worms)  often  react  in 
opposite  ways  to  the  same  stimulus.  What  they  do  varies 
with  their  appetite,  their  freshness  or  fatigue,  their  recent 
stimulation  and  degree  of  excitement,  and  their  history. 
After  long  study  of  Planaria,  Professor  Pearl  concludes  that 
"  it  is  almost  an  absolute  necessity  that  a  person  should  be- 
come familiar,  or  perhaps  better,  intimate,  with  an  organ- 
ism, so  that  he  knows  it  in  something  the  same  way  that 
he  knows  a  person,  before  he  can  hope  to  get  even  an  approxi- 
mation of  the  truth  regarding  its  behaviour''  (quoted  by 
Jennings,  1906,  p.  254). 

If  a  reflex  be  an  invariable  reaction  to  a  given  stimulus, 
then  there  is  much  more  than  that  in  the  behaviour  of  lower 
animals.  For  different  answers  to  the  same  stimulus  may 
be  given  by  the  same  kind  of  creature  or  by  the  same  creature 
at  different  times.  The  answer  depends  on  the  organismal 
condition  as  a  whole.  Moreover,  the  fact  that  stand?  out  most 
clearly  in  the  behaviour  of  the  lower  organisms  is  this: — 


192  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

^'  Each  stimulus  causes  as  a  rule  not  merely  a  single  definite 
action  that  may  be  called  a  reflex,  but  a  series  of  '  trial ' 
movements,  of  the  most  diverse  character,  and  including  at 
times  practically  all  the  movements  of  which  the  animal  is 
capable"  (Jennings,  1906,  p.  280). 

§  6.     Tropisms, 

From  chains  of  reflexes,  suffused  with  awareness,  it  is  not 
difficult  to  pass  to  the  level  of  instinctive  behaviour,  but 
before  we  pass  to  that  level  we  have  to  recognise  the  important 
role  played  by  tropisms  (see  Loeb,  1918).  Tropisms  are 
obligatory  or  forced  movements  of  the  creature  as  a  whole, 
which  more  or  less  automatically  secure  physiological  equi- 
librium in  relation  to  outside  stimuli,  such  as  light  or  heat, 
gravity  or  electricity,  diffusing  chemicals  or  water-currents. 
When  a  moth,  constitutionally  adapted  to  nocturnal  activity, 
comes  in  its  flight  within  the  sphere  of  influence  of  a  candle, 
and  has  one  eye  much  more  illumined  than  the  other,  owing 
to  the  direction  in  which  it  happens  to  be  flying,  more  intense 
chemical  processes  are  set  up  in  the  illumined  eye.  On  that 
side  there  is  therefore  a  relative  increase  in  the  mass  of 
certain  chemical  products.  But  messages,  impulses,  stimula- 
tions, or  waves  of  chemical  reaction  are  always  passing  from 
the  brain  of  the  flying  moth  to  the  contracting  muscles,  and 
if  the  physiological  symmetry  of  the  brain  has  been  disturbed 
by  the  unequal  illumination  of  the  eyes,  the  muscles  on  the 
more  illumined  side  are  thrown  into  a  state  of  stronger  ten- 
sion or  tonus,  with  the  result  that  they  will  respond  more 
forcibly  to  stimulation  from  the  brain,  and  will  therefore 
turn  the  head  and  body  of  the  moth  directly  towards  the 
candle  near  which  it  is  flying.  ^'  As  soon  as  the  plane  of 
symmetry  goes  through  the  source  of  light,  both  eyes  receive 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  193 

again  equal  illumination,  the  tension  (or  tonus)  of  syra- 
metrical  muscles  becomes  equal  again,  and  the  impulses  for 
locomotion  will  now  produce  equal  activity  in  the  symmetri- 
cal muscles.  As  a  consequence,  the  animal  will  move  in  a 
straight  line  to  the  source  of  light  until  some  other  asym- 
metrical disturbance  once  more  changes  the  direction  of  mo- 
tion "  (Loeb,  1918,  p.  14).  Such,  in  outline,  is  Prof. 
Jacques  LoeVs  ingenious  and  convincing  theory  of  the  tro- 
pism  or  *  forced  movement '  which  brings  the  moth  into  the 
candle. 

Tropistic  actions  are  obligatory  in  the  sense  that  every 
creature  of  the  same  kind  and  in  the  same  physiological 
state  will  in  similar  circumstances  behave  in  the  same  wav ; 
there  is  no  alternative.  But  it  is  a  very  notable  fact,  to 
be  carefully  thought  over,  that  a  tropism  may  be  changed, 
reversed,  or  annulled  by  changes  in  the  physiological  con- 
dition of  the  body  or  by  changes  in  the  surrounding  medium. 
The  common  Amphipod  Crustacean  Gammarus  of  fresh- 
water pools  always  moves  away  from  light — that  is  its  tro- 
pism, but  add  the  least  trace  of  acid  to  the  water,  and  it 
moves  towards  the  light — as  if  a  drop  of  philtre  changed 
the  creature's  whole  nature ! 

The  tropistic  movements  often  appear  as  if  they  had  a  very 
definite  external  aim — such  as  the  candle — but  that  is  illu- 
sory. The  orientation  is  physiologically  coerced.  There  is  no 
desire  of  the  moth  for  the  star.  It  should  be  noted  that 
their  general  adaptiveness  is  not  contradicted  by  cases  like 
the  moth  flying  into  the  candle,  for  organisms  are  not  and 
could  not  be  adapted  to  the  altogether  exceptional  and  un- 
natural. In  some  cases  one  tropism  way  thwart  another, 
and  it  may  be  that  a  tropistic  movement  is  sometimes  in- 
terrupted by  some  strong  internal  stimulus  such  as  a  desire. 


194  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

One  of  the  criteria  of  organisms  is  the  power  of  retention 
or  registration  which  eventually  finds  remarkable  expression 
in  human  memory,  and  the  general  view  we  wish  to  suggest, 
as  a  clue  to  the  maze  of  animal  behaviour,  is  that  there 
has  been  at  level  after  level  a  process  of  automatisation  or 
organisation,  which  makes  for  economy  of  time  and  energy, 
and  also,  if  it  does  not  go  too  far,  leaves  the  organism  free 
for  experiment  and  initiative.  So  in  established  reactions, 
in  reflex  actions,  and  in  tropisms  we  see  enregistrations 
which  are,  in  a  way,  off  the  main  line  of  advance. 

Besides  established  reactions,  reflex  actions,  and  tropisms 
there  are  rhythmic  activities  adjusted  to  external  periodici- 
ties, such  as  change  of  position  in  shore  animals  when  the 
tide  goes  out  or  comes  in.  That  these  may  be  more  than 
tropisms  is  shown  by  cases  where  the  rhythm  is  so  engrained 
in  the  creature's  constitution  that  it  persists  for  a  time  in 
periodic  expression  even  when  the  external  stimulus  has 
ceased.  The  interesting  green  worms  called  Convolutas, 
well-known  on  some  flat  beaches,  such  as  that  of  Roscoif, 
come  up  to  the  surface  of  the  sand  when  the  tide  goes  out, 
and  retreat  again  when  the  tide  comes  in.  Bohn  has  found 
that  they  will  continue  doing  this  for  a  couple  of  weeks 
in  an  aquarium  away  from  the  sea.  Similarly,  some  hermit- 
crabs  which  make  for  the  light  at  high  tide  and  away  from 
the  light  at  low  tide  have  been  observed  doing  this  for  some 
time  at  the  proper  hours  in  a  tideless  aquarium. 

It  is  a  question  for  expert  discussion  and  further  experi- 
ment how  far  the  conception  of  tropisms  will  carry  us  as 
an  interpretation  of  the  ways  of  the  lower  animals.  Loeb 
believes  it  will  cover  most  cases ;  Jennings  thinks  its  scope 
is  narrowly  limited.  Just  as  tropisms  differ  from  ordinary 
reflexes  in  being  usually  adjustments  of  the  animal   as   a 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  195 

whole,  so  behaviour  differs  from  tropisms  in  being  an  effec- 
tive concatenation  or  correlation  of  successive  adjustments. 
In  a  tropism  there  is  really  but  one  adjustment,  which  is 
repeated  over  and  over  again.  In  behaviour  there  is  trial 
after  trial  of  different  reactions,  and  a  selection  of  the  best 
available  result. 

§  7.     N onrintelligent  Experimentation. 

Preoccupation  with  reflexes  and  tropisms  is  apt  to  lead 
to  an  ignoring  of  the  '  trial  movements  '  which  are  common 
among  the  lower  animals.  "  Unprejudiced  observation  of 
most  Invertebrates  will  show  that  they  perform  many  move- 
ments which  have  no  fixed  relation  to  sources  of  external 
stimuli,  but  which  do  serve  to  test  the  surroundings  and 
thus  to  guide  the  animal  "  (Jennings,  p.  247).  Prof.  S.  J. 
Holmes  writes  to  the  same  effect  and  gives  many  illustra- 
tions : — "  The  lives  of  most  insects,  crustaceans,  worms,  and 
hosts  of  lower  Invertebrate  forms,  including  even  the  Pro- 
tozoa, show  an  amount  of  busy  exploration  that  in  many 
cases  far  exceeds  that  made  by  any  higher  animal.  Through- 
out the  animal  kingdom  there  is  obedience  to  the  Pauline 
injunction,  ^  Prove  all  things,  hold  fast  that  which  is  good  '  " 
(quoted  by  Jennings,  p.  250). 

Among  simple  multicellular  animals  there  is,  one  must 
admit,  not  a  little  of  that  restless  locomotion  which  we  see 
in  Infusorians  and  the  like,  which  we  have  called  general 
organismal  activity.  But  at  any  moment  this  may  give 
place  to  more  definite  behaviour.  The  creature  commands 
its  course  and  is  neither  blown  hither  and  thither  by  every 
tropistic  gust  nor  bound  by  reflex  routine.  It  makes  sensori- 
motor experiments  which  work  towards  an  end,  such  as  the 
systematic  exploration  of  a  corner  in  search  of  food.     It 


196  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

shows  control  and  selection.  It  may  profit  by  experience, 
even  though  it  has  no  brain. 

The  sea-anemone  Antholoha  reticulata,  described  by 
Biirger,  usually  lives  on  the  back  of  a  crab.  If  it  be  re- 
moved it  fixes  itself  to  the  stony  floor  of  the  sea  and  spreads 
its  tentacles,  biding  its  time.  After  four  or  five  days  it 
frees  itself  and  turns  upside  down.  ]^ow  if  the  upturned 
base  of  the  sea-anemone  be  touched  by  a  crab's  leg,  it  lays 
hold,  folding  itself  about  the  limb.  "  It  now,  in  the  course 
of  several  hours,  climbs  up  the  crab's  leg  to  its  back,  where 
it  establishes  itself.  The  sea-anemone  thus  by  its  own  activ- 
ity attains  the  extraordinary  situation  where  it  is  usually 
found.  The  whole  train  of  action  is  like  that  shown  in  the 
complicated  and  adaptive  instincts  of  higher  animals " 
(Jennings,  p.  197). 

As  the  type-case  of  what  we  propose  to  call  simply  organis- 
mal  behaviour  (or  perhaps  sensori-motor  behaviour),  we  take 
the  attack  which  the  brainless,  ganglionless  starfish  makes 
on  the  brainless,  ganglionless  sea-urchin  (see  Prouho,  1890). 
The  starfish  lays  an  arm  upon  the  spinose  surface  of  the 
sea-urchin  and  grips  with  its  suctorial  tube-feet.  The  sea- 
urchin  responds  by  biting  with  its  numerous  snapping  organs 
or  pedicellarise  which  close  on  the  tube-feet.  The  starfish 
then  draws  away  an  arm,  wrenching  off  the  pedicellarise. 
It  repeats  the  process  with  the  same  or  another  arm  until  the 
sea-urchin  is  cleared  of  its  weapons.  The  starfish  then  pro- 
trudes a  portion  of  its  highly  elastic  stomach  over  its  victim, 
apd  the  business  is  .over.  Now  some  of  the  items  in  the  pro- 
cedure are  probably  purely  reflex,  such  as  the  attachment 
of  the  tube-feet,  but  the  point  is  that  the  starfish  exhibits  a 
chain  of  actions,  certainly  not  in  the  line  of  least  resistance, 
which  are  mutually  adjusted  or  correlated  in  such  a  way 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  197 

that  they  bring  about  an  end.  How  the  conative  bow  of 
the  starfish  was  bent  towards  that  end  and  kept  towards 
that  end,  who  shall  tell  us,  but  that  we  have  here  to  do  with 
behaviour  seems  undeniable.  It  appears  to  us  to  be  an 
important  fact  that  ganglionless  animals  show  a  trial-and- 
error  method,  a  selection  of  the  responses  that  put  things 
right,  and  for  a  short  time,  at  least,  a  profiting  by  experience. 
We  cannot  call  this  intelligent  behaviour,  but  it  is  objec- 
tively the  counterpart  of  intelligent  behaviour. 

This  stage  in  the  evolution  of  behaviour  may  be  said  to 
mark  one  of  the  great  events  in  the  history  of  life.  As  the 
organism  became  more  differentiated  it  was  open  to  a  larger 
number  of  stimuli;  as  it  gained  a  foothold  in  particular 
situations  "  the  door  to  choice  was  unlocked  '' ;  as  experience 
began  to  be  garnered  it  became  possible  for  an  internal  im- 
pulse to  control  the  natural  reaction  to  a  stimulus.  This 
was  the  dawn  of  freedom. 

§  8.     Instinctive  Behaviour. 

When  a  spider  makes  a  web  or  the  bees  a  honeycomb, 
when  a  digger-wasp  paralyses  insects  and  stores  them  in  its 
burrow  as  provender  for  its  offspring,  when  a  male  stickle- 
back builds  a  nest,  when  a  young  moorhen  swims  deftly  the 
first  time  it  touches  the  water,  we  have  to  deal  with  instinc- 
tive behaviour.  It  reaches  its  climax  and  its  purest  expres- 
sion in  Arthropods,  such  as  ants,  bees,  and  wasps;  in  birds 
and  mammals  it  is  more  likely  to  occur  in  co-operation  with 
intelligence. 

There  seems  indeed  to  be  a  sharp  contrast  between  what 
Sir  Eay  Lankester  calls  the  big  brain  type,  which  reaches  its 
finest  development  in  birds  and  mammals,  and  the  little  brain 
type,  the  climax  of  which  is  in  ants,  bees,  and  wasps.     The 


198  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

big  brain  type  is  relatively  poor  in  ingrained  capacities  of 
instinctive  behaviour  but  is  eminently  educable:  the  chick 
reared  in  an  incubator  in  the  laboratory  does  not  recognise 
what  water  is^  even  when  it  is  thirsty  and  standing  in  it; 
it  does  not  know  what  its  unseen  mother's  cluck  means ;  and 
it  will  stuff  its  crop  once  or  twice  with  worms  of  red  worsted. 
But  it  learns  to  find  its  way  about  with  prodigious  rapidity. 
The  little  brain  type  is  rich  in  ingrained  capacities  of  in- 
stinctive behaviour,  but  is  relatively  non-educable.  If  a  bell- 
jar  be  placed  over  the  nest  of  a  ground-wasp,  from  the 
door  of  which  the  iimiates  are  wont  to  fly  away,  they  are 
psychically  unable  to  force  a  path  out  amid  the  herbage 
pressed  down  by  the  edge  of  the  glass.  Even  when  those 
outside  force  a  way  in,  they  cannot  come  out  again,  or  give 
their  fellows  a  hint  how  to  escape. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  little  brain  type 
is  unable  to  profit  by  experience.  We  know  in  fact  that  they 
build  up  complex  chains  of  associations.  It  is  instructive 
to  recall  Professor  Yung's  experiments  with  hive-bees.  Of 
20  taken  in  a  box  into  the  country  6  kilometres  from 
Geneva,  17  returned;  of  those  17  taken  next  day  out  on 
to  the  lake,  none  returned.  This  is  to  be  contrasted  with 
the  successful  return  of  the  terns  which  were  taken  from 
Bird  Key  in  the  Tortugas  to  Cape  Hatteras,  850  miles  into 
seas  never  before  visited;  yet  some  returned  in  safety  to 
their  nests. 

Those  who  incline  to  use  in  reference  to  ants  and  bees, 
crabs  and  spiders,  the  terms  we  need  in  describing  our  own 
activities,  should  remember  the  great  differences  in  the  plan 
of  the  nervous  system  in  the  respective  ranks  of  Arthropods 
and  Vertebrates.  In  the  former  there  is  much  less  centralisa- 
tion; the  cerebral  ganglia  are  connected  with  a  ventral  chain 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  199 

of  ganglia  which  are  able  to  control  many  actions  by  them- 
selves. We  must  remember  that  a  wasp  or  a  bee  may  go 
on  feeding  after  its  tail  has  been  cut  off,  as  Baron  Mun- 
chausen's horse  went  on  drinking  after  most  of  its  body  had 
been  shot  away.  Even  a  decapitated  insect  can  do  a  good 
deal,  like  St.  Denis  who  walked  round  the  town  with  his 
head  in  his  hands.  But  whatever  may  have  been  the  saint's 
reflections,  we  may  be  sure  the  insect  has  none. 

Before  going  further  let  us  take  a  thoroughly  typical 
instance  of  instinctive  behaviour,  and  there  is  no  better 
than  that  of  the  Yucca  Moth  (Pronuha  yuccasella),  which 
has  been  often  cited.  When  the  large  yellow  bells  of  the 
Yucca  open,  each  for  a  single  night,  the  silvery  moth,  just 
emerged  from  her  chrysalis,  sets  forth  to  visit  them.  From 
the  anthers  of  one  she  collects  pollen,  which  she  kneads  into 
a  ball,  and  holds  beneath  her  head.  She  flies  to  another 
flower,  pierces  the  pistil  with  her  ovipositor,  lays  her  eggs 
among  the  ovules,  and  then  places  the  fertilising  pollen- 
pellet  in  the  funnel-shaped  opening  of  the  stigma.  Without 
the  pollen  thus  brought  by  the  moth  the  ovules  would  not 
develop.  The  larvae  of  the  moth  eat  a  share  of  the  developing 
ovules,  but  not  more  than  about  half  are  required.  So  that 
both  plant  and  insect  are  served.  In  referring  to  this  ex- 
traordinary case  Prof.  Lloyd  Morgan  writes :  ^'  These  mar- 
vellously adaptive  instinctive  activities  of  the  Yucca  moth 
are  performed  but  once  in  her  life,  and  that  without  in- 
struction, with  no  opportunities  of  learning  by  imitation, 
and,  apparently,  without  prevision  of  what  will  be  the  out- 
come of  her  behaviour ;  for  she  has  no  experience  of  the 
subsequent  fate  of  the  eggs  she  lays,  and  cannot  be  credited 
with  any  knowledge  of  the  efi'ect  of  the  pollen  upon  the 
ovules.     The  activities  also  illustrate  what  is  by  no  means 


200  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

infrequent  in  the  more  complex  instincts,  namely,  the  serial 
nature  of  the  adaptation.  There  is  a  sequence  of  activities, 
and  the  whole  sequence  is  adaptive  in  its  nature." 

What  are  the  general  characteristics  of  instinctive  be- 
haviour as  exhibited  by  animals  like  ants,  bees,  and  wasps, 
of  the  little  brain  type? 

(1)  Instinctive  behaviour  in  its  typical  form  is  always 
specific  or  particulate.  The  garden-spider's  web  is  not  like 
the  hedge-spider's  web;  the  nest  of  one  wild-bee  is  not  like 
another's;  each  wasp  has  its  own  victims  which  it  deals  with 
in  its  own  way;  the  female  butterfly  lays  eggs  on  specific 
food-plants  which  are  appreciated  not  by  her  but  by  the 
future  caterpillars;  and  so  on.  Another  aspect  of  the  par- 
ticulateness  is  a  certain  wooden  lack  of  plasticity. 

(2)  The  routine  of  instinctive  behaviour  has  often  a  con- 
siderable degree  of  perfection  the  very  first  time,  and  while 
it  may  be  improved  by  practice,  it  certainly  does  not  require 
learning  or  experimenting.  In  other  words,  the  instinctive 
behaviour  depends  upon  a  hereditary  predisposition  of  the 
nervous  system.  Professor  Driesch  has  defined  instinctive 
behaviour  as  "  a  complicated  reaction  that  is  perfect  the 
very  first  time  ",  but  this  inclines  to  be  too  hard  and  fast, 
for  there  is  a  certain  amount  of  individual  development  in 
some  instincts.  None  the  less  Paley  expressed  one  of  the 
characteristics  of  instinct  when  he  spoke  of  it  as  ^^  a  pro- 
pensity prior  to  experience  and  independent  of  instruction  ". 
Instinctive  behaviour  ^  just  comes  '  when  the  organism  is 
exposed  to  the  appropriate  stimulation. 

(3)  The  capacity  for  a  particular  piece  of  instinctive  be- 
haviour is  shared  with  approximate  equality  by  all  like  mem- 
bers of  the  species.  All  the  female  spiders  of  a  given  species 
make  an  equally  fine  web;  all  the  males  an  equally  inferior 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  201 

one.  The  capacity  is  often  very  markedly  sex-linked,  the 
one  sex  doing  with  perfect  finish  what  the  other  does  not  do  at 
all;  thus  the  drones  of  the  bee-hive  take  no  part  in  comb- 
making.  One  must  not,  of  course,  suppose  that  instinctive 
capacities  are  not  variable;  the  point  is  rather  that  instinc- 
tive equipment  is  much  more  uniform  than  intellectual  en- 
dowment. It  may  be  admitted  that  part  of  the  individuality 
of  intelligence  is  due  to  the  fact  that  intelligence  is  as  much 
made  as  born,  which  brings  us  back  to  the  contrast  that 
instinctive  capacity  is  much  more  inborn  than  made. 

(4)  Instinctive  behaviour  is  always  adaptive  to  the  nor- 
mal conditions  of  the  animal's  life,  though  it  may  prove  in- 
effective or  misleading  in  face  of  peculiar  exigencies.  It 
has  to  do  with  particular  events  and  circumstances,  particular 
stimuli  and  configurations,  which  frequently  recur,  or,  if  not, 
are  of  vital  moment  (as  in  the  escape  from  the  imprisoning 
egg-shell) ;  and  a  slight  change  in  the  conditions  is  likely 
to  result  in  extraordinary  nonplussing. 

A  study  of  these  limitations  tends  to  impress  us  with  the 
difference  between  purely  instinctive  behaviour,  and  that 
experimental,  inferential,  or  reflective  kind  of  behaviour 
which  we  call  intelligent.     Let  us  illustrate. 

The  veteran  French  naturalist  Fabre,  who  died  in  1915 
at  the  age  of  ninety-two,  relates  that  he  induced  a  long  file 
of  procession  caterpillars  to  move  round  the  circular  parapet 
of  a  fountain,  and  by  making  the  head  of  the  leader  touch 
the  tail  of  the  last  member  formed  a  living  circle  which 
continued  for  days  circumambulating  futilely.  "  They  knew 
nothing  about  anything."  The  grub  of  the  mason-bee  is 
hatched  in  a  mortar-cradle  with  a  lid  through  which  it  has 
to  cut  its  way.  This  it  does  without  difficulty.  If  the 
lid  be  artificially  thickened  by  gluing  on  a  piece  of  stout 


202  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

paper,  this  makes  no  difference  to  the  success  of  the  boring. 
But  if  a  little  empty  paper  box  be  placed  over  the  lid  the 
grub  emerges  into  this,  and  having  completed  the  boring 
part  of  its  inborn  routine  cannot  recommence  it,  and  dies 
in  its  paper  prison.  Limitations  of  this  sort  are  quite  char- 
acteristic of  purely  instinctive  behaviour  and  seem  to  remove 
it  far  from  intelligence. 

But  the  rigidity  of  instinctive  routine  must  not  be  exag- 
gerated. Professor  and  Mrs.  Peckham  have  made  a  careful 
study  of  the  instincts  of  wasps,  both  solitary  and  social. 
Several  of  the  solitary  forms  go  through  the  same  general 
routine,  but  with  interesting  generic,  specific,  and  even  indi- 
vidual differences.  When  the  female — Ammophila,  for  in- 
stance— is  ready  to  lay  eggs,  she  makes  a  hole  in  the  ground, 
closes  it  up,  searches  for  some  kind  of  prey  (such  as  a  cater- 
pillar), stings  it  several  times  and  pinches  it,  drags  it  to 
the  nest,  lays  it  down,  opens  the  nest,  drags  in  the  paralysed 
victim,  deposits  an  egg  beside  it,  and  then  covers  up  the  hole. 
On  the  whole  it  works  like  clockwork,  but  there  may  be 
variations  and  mistakes  at  every  step !  Moreover,  in  the 
wasp's  routine  there  is  probably  help  from  intelligence — 
in  choosing  a  good  site,  in  adapting  the  shape  of  burrow  to 
the  soil,  in  remembering  the  locality,  in  biting  at  the  prey 
to  suit  the  size  of  hole,  and  so  on. 

The  general  characteristics  of  instinctive  behaviour  have 
been  admirably  summed  up  by  Prof.  Lloyd  Morgan.  "  In- 
stinctive behaviour  is  that  which  is,  on  its  first  occurrence, 
independent  of  prior  experience ;  which  tends  to  the  well- 
being  of  the  individual  and  the  preservation  of  the  race; 
which  is  similarly  performed  by  all  the  members  of  the  same 
more  or  less  restricted  group  of  animals  and  which  may 
be  subject  to  subsequent  modification  under  the  guidance  of 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  203 

experience.  Such  behaviour  is,  I  conceive,  a  more  or  less 
complex  organic  or  biological  response  to  a  more  or  less 
complex  group  of  stimuli  of  external  and  internal  origin, 
and  it  is,  as  such,  v^holly  dependent  on  how  the  organism, 
and  especially  the  nervous  system  and  brain  centres,  have 
been  built  through  heredity  under  that  mode  of  racial  prep- 
aration which  we  call  biological  evolution  "  (Instinct  and 
Experience,  1912,  p.  5). 

It  is  confusing  to  use  the  term  instinctive  so  loosely  that 
it  becomes  almost  equivalent  to  hereditary  or  inborn,  as  in 
phrases  like  instinctive  pugnacity  or  instinctive  gregarious- 
ness,  for  the  usefulness  of  the  term  is  in  reference  to  specific 
behaviour.  Yet  it  may  be  legitimate  and  useful  to  distin- 
guish between  general  instinctive  tendencies  and  specialised 
instinctive  behaviour.  A  general  instinctive  tendency  is  the 
expression  of  an  inborn  impulsion  which  has  not  much  par- 
ticular content,  such  as  is  shown  by  mammals  who  are  about 
to  become  mothers  for  the  first  time,  or  by  an  isolated  hen- 
bird  who  fumbles  at  nest-making,  or  in  the  so-called  '  sex- 
instinct  '.  Thus  we  ourselves  have  many  instinctive  ten- 
dencies, but  few  instincts.  These  general  instinctive  ten- 
dencies are  to  be  distinguished  from  fundamental  appetites 
such  as  hunger,  and  also  from  general  tropisms,  illustrated, 
for  instance,  when  young  birds  gather  under  a  tea-cosy  as 
under  a  mother — where  we  have  evidently  to  do  with  sim- 
ilar responses  to  similar  stimuli. 

§  9.     Theories  of  Instinct. 

It  is  too  soon  to  come  to  any  hard-and-fast  conclusion 
in  regard  to  the  nature  of  instinctive  behaviour.  We  have 
not  yet  got  the  facts  fully  before  us,  and  there  is  much 
need  of  more  experimental  study.     It  is  almost  certain  that 


204  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

there  are  different  grades  of  instinctive  behaviour.  There 
are  three  main  theories  at  present  in  the  field.  (A)  Some 
investigators  rank  instinctive  behaviour  as  closely  comparable 
to  chains  of  reflex  actions,  and  as  due  to  non-cognitive  hered- 
itary predispositions  to  follow  a  certain  routine  when  a 
number  of  stimuli  present  themselves.  (B)  Others  regard 
instinctive  behaviour  as  quite  inseparable  from  intelligent  be- 
haviour. (C)  According  to  a  third  view,  instinct  and  in- 
telligence are  two  radically  different  though  often  co-opera- 
tive kinds  of  knowing,  which  have  evolved  along  divergent 
lines. 

(A)  Some  investigators  rank  instinctive  behaviour  as  near 
compound  reflex  actions,  as  the  outcome  of  non-cognitive 
hereditary  impulsions  or  predispositions  to  enter  upon  a 
certain  routine  when  a  certain  trigger  is  pulled,  and  to  follow 
on  in  a  perfectly  definite  manner,  the  result  of  one  trigger- 
pulling  leading  to  another  trigger,  and  so  on.  This  may  be 
called  the  reflex  theory  of  instinctive  behaviour,  and  it  is 
often  held  by  mechanists  in  the  strict  sense.  It  may,  how- 
ever, be  held  by  biologists  who  admit  that  vital  processes 
cannot  be  adequately  re-described  in  terms  of  chemistry  and 
physics,  who  are,  however,  unwilling  to  admit  in  instinctive 
behaviour  any  reality  beyond  the  physiological  processes  of 
the  animal's  nervous  system.  We  shall  call  it,  therefore,  the 
reflex  theory,  rather  than  the  mechanistic  theory  of  instinc- 
tive behaviour. 

Instinctive  behaviour  agrees  with  reflex  acts  in  not  re- 
quiring to  be  learned,  in  being  dependent  on  hereditary 
nervous  predispositions,  and  in  being  exhibited  approxi- 
mately in  the  same  way  by  all  similar  individuals  of  the 
species. 

It  differs  from  reflex  acts  in  being  the  activity  of  the 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  205 

organism  as  a  whole  and  in  requiring  (with  few  exceptions) 
an  intact  nervous  system.  It  differs  also  in  sometimes  hav- 
ing some  measure  of  plasticity  or  of  variability,  which  is 
quite  unknown  in  reflex  actions.  It  differs  also  inasmuch 
as  it  does  not  always  consist  of  acts  soon  over  and  done 
with  and  attaining  a  result  useful  in  itself;  it  is  often  a 
unified  many-linked  concatenation  of  acts,  working  towards 
a  distant  result.  In  many  of  the  chains  of  instinctive  be- 
haviour connected  with  parenthood,  the  end  is  very  remote, 
sometimes  never  experienced;  and  making  a  dark  burrow 
in  a  bank  can  hardly  be  its  own  reward.  To  describe  in- 
stinctive behaviour  as  nothing  more  than  a  series  of  intri- 
cately dovetailed  reflex  actions  suggests  a  false  simplicity — 
slurring  over  the  characteristic  unification  or  concatenation. 
Considered  physiologically,  instinctive  behaviour  is  based 
on  neuro-muscular  prearrangements,  but  to  many  naturalists 
it  seems  impossible  to  do  descriptive  justice  to  what  takes 
place  without  supposing  that  the  behaviour  is  suffused  with 
awareness  and  sustained  by  endeavour. 

According  to  Prof.  W.  McDougall,  the  higher  or  more 
complex  instinctive  activities  are  much  more  than  compound 
reflexes.  They  are  induced  not  by  simple  sense-impressions 
as  reflexes  are,  but  by  complex  groups  of  sense-stimuli,  such 
as  some  scene.  Thus  insects  visiting  flowers  show  ^'  a  total 
complex  reaction  to  a  total  complex  sense-impression ". 
There  is  meaning  or  significance  in  it ;  and  a  sustaining  cona- 
tion or  endeavour. 

Prof.  Lloyd  Morgan  holds  an  interesting  view  which 
seems  more  applicable  to  the  ^  big  brain  '  than  to  the  '  little 
brain '  type.  Instinctive  behaviour  he  regards  as  physiologi- 
cally akin  to  reflex  action;  it  consists  of  concatenated  reac- 
tions of  the  whole  organism.     The  capacity  for  this  in  birds 


206  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

and  mammals  probably  has  its  seat  in  parts  of  the  brain 
below  the  cerebral  cortex.  But  the  lower  centres  stimulate 
the  higher  centres  and  intelligence  qualifies  the  instinctive 
behaviour. 

On  Prof.  Lloyd  Morgan's  view,  intelligent  guidance  is  the 
function  of  the  cerebral  cortex  w^th  its  distinguishing  prop- 
erty of  consciousness;  the  co-ordination  involved  in  instinc- 
tive behaviour,  and  in  the  distribution  of  physiological  im- 
pulses to  the  viscera  and  vascular  system  is  the  primary 
function  of  the  lower  brain-centres ;  in  instinctive  behaviour 
as  such,  consciousness  correlated  with  processes  in  the  cere- 
bral cortex  is,  so  to  speak,  a  mere  spectator  of  organic  and 
biological  occurrences  at  present  beyond  its  control ;  but,  as 
spectator,  it  receives  information  of  these  occurrences  through 
the  nerve-channels  of  connection  between  the  lower  and  the 
higher  parts  of  the  brain.  Thus  instinct  and  intelligence 
are  different  organs,  but  they  co-operate,  and  as  intelligence 
is  kept  more  or  less  informed  of  the  steps  of  instinctive 
behaviour  it  is  sometimes  on  the  spot  to  help  the  animal  out 
if  some  critical  situation  arise  which  the  routine-behaviour 
cannot  meet. 

Some  who  think  that  it  is  feasible  to  interpret  instinctive 
behaviour  biologically  as  a  concatenation  of  reflexes  are  at 
the  same  time  willing  to  admit  that  there  may  be  a  psychical 
accompaniment  which  does  not  rise  to  the  cognitive  level. 
Thus  Minkiewicz,  who  has  made  very  important  experiments 
on  animal  behaviour,  regards  instinctive  performance  as  im- 
plying ''  a  certain  low  form  of  unconscious,  but  none  the  less 
purposive  psychical  activity  ", 

(B)  Others  regard  instinctive  behaviour  as  inseparable 
from  intelligent  behaviour.  Thus  Professor  Stout  regards  in- 
stinctive behaviour  as  being  biologically  a  concatenated  series 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  207 

of  reflex-like  actions,  dependent  on  hereditary  neuro-mus- 
cular  prearrangements.  Subjectively,  however,  it  shows 
"  conative  impulse,  unity  and  continuity  of  attention,  per- 
severance with  adaptive  variation  of  behaviour  correspond- 
ing to  felt  success  or  failure,  and,  in  many  cases,  the  evi- 
dence of  having  learned  by  experience  ".  "  The  congenital 
prearrangements  of  the  neuro-muscular  mechanism  for  spe- 
cial modes  of  behaviour  do  not  of  themselves  suffice  to  ex- 
plain the  animal's  conduct.  Their  biological  utility  depends 
from  the  outset  on  their  operation  being  sustained,  controlled, 
and  guided  by  intelligent  interest  in  the  pursuit  of  ends." 
It  seems  to  us  that  this  view  fits  the  blended  instincts  of 
birds  much  better  than  the  pure  instincts  of  bees. 

According  to  Prof.  C.  S.  Myers  there  is  but  one  psychologi- 
cal function — instinct-intelligence.  ''  In  what  is  ordinarily 
called  instinctive  behaviour  the  innate  mechanism  is  rela- 
tively fixed  and  given ;  in  what  is  ordinarily  called  intelli- 
gent behaviour  the  mechanism  is  relatively  plastic  and  ac- 
quired. But  I  maintain  that  such  differences  are  only  rela- 
tive and  that  no  mental  state  (or  process)  can  be  spoken 
of  as  solely  instinctive  or  as  solely  intelligent." 

(C)  A  third  view,  particularly  associated  with  Professor 
Bergson,  regards  instinctive  behaviour  and  intelligent  be- 
haviour as  two  quite  different  kinds  of  efficiency,  implying 
different  kinds  of  knowing. 

If  we  define  intelligent  behaviour  as  that  which  involves 
objectively  some  trial-and-error  experimenting  and  profiting 
thereby,  and  subjectively  some  perceptual  inference,  we  may 
say  that  instinctive  behaviour  differs  in  being  non-experi- 
mental (though  it  may  improve  as  the  result  of  experience) 
and  non-inferential  (though  not  necessarily  destitute  of 
awareness).     It  is  the  impression  of  many  observers  that 


208  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOR 

instinctive  behaviour  differs  from  intelligent  behaviour  in 
the  rigidity  of  the  routine  and  in  the  absence  of  awareness 
of  the  end  to  be  attained.  In  intelligent  behaviour,  as  we 
know  it  in  ourselves,  there  is  an  awareness  of  ends  as  ends, 
and  there  is  a  power  of  adapting  old  means  to  new  ends. 
But  it  is  only  by  an  argument  from  analogy  that  we  can 
speak  about  absence  or  presence  of  awareness,  and  even  in 
intelligent  behaviour  the  degree  of  awareness  varies  greatly 
in  intensity. 

iVccording  to  Professor  Bergson,  instinct  and  intelligence 
differ  in  kind  and  have  evolved  on  divergent  paths.  The  ways 
of  ants  and  bees  cannot  be  described  as  intelligent.  As  Prof. 
H.  Wildon  Carr  puts  it,  ^'  the  fundamental  difference  lies 
in  the  mode  of  apprehension  of  reality,  and  the  kind  of 
knowledge  that  serves  the  activity  of  each ".  "  We  can 
never  know  what  this  instinctive  knowledge  is."  But  we 
may  approach  it  sympathetically  in  our  power  of  intuition 
— '^  a  direct  vision  of  reality  that  is  not  clothed,  so  to  speak, 
with  the  categories  of  the  understanding ''.  ''  This  reality 
is  the  living  activity  itself  apprehended  as  a  real  duration." 

One  of  the  fundamental  sentences  in  UEvolution  Creatrice 
is  this :  ^'  The  cardinal  error  which,  from  Aristotle  onwards, 
has  vitiated  most  of  the  philosophies  of  nature  is  to  see  in 
vegetative,  instinctive,  and  rational  life  three  successive 
degrees  of  the  evolution  of  one-  and  the  same  tendency, 
whereas  they  are  three  divergent  directions  of  an  activity 
that  has  split  up  as  it  evolved.  The  difference  between  them 
is  not  a  difference  of  intensity,  nor,  more  generally,  of  degree, 
but  of  kind."  To  this,  M.  Bergson  has,  indeed,  immediately 
to  add  that  intelligence  and  instinct  are  rarely  to  be  caught 
pure,  for  instinct  is  often  accompanied  by  gleams  of  intelli- 
gence (seen,  for  instance,  when  hive-bees  nest  in  the  open 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  209 

air),  and  there  is  no  intelligence  in  which  some  traces  of 
instinct  are  not  to  be  discovered. 

Intelligence  uses  unorganised  instruments — tools;  instinct 
uses  inborn  organised  instruments.  The  innate  knowledge  in 
instinct  is  of  things,  of  particular  pieces  of  matter ;  the  innate 
knowledge  in  intelligence  is  of  relations,  of  forms.  Instinct 
implies  intimate  and  full  awareness  of  a  particular  configura- 
tion of  things ;  intelligence  makes  frames  applicable  to  many 
things.  If  instinct  has  signs  or  words,  they  are  adherent, 
^'  invariably  attached  to  a  certain  object  or  a  certain  opera- 
tion ".  Intelligence  has  mobile  signs,  which  can  pass  from 
things  to  ideas,  and  this  language  has  been  a  great  liberator. 
In  short,  instinct  and  intelligence  are  quite  different  expres- 
sions of  life.  As  to  the  much-debated  question  whether  in- 
stinct is  conscious  or  not.  Professor  Bergson  holds  that  there 
may  be  lively  consciousness  in  some  cases,  and  that  it  may  be 
nullified  in  others.  Consciousness  is  the  light  that  plays 
around  the  zone  of  possible  actions,  in  the  interval  between 
representation  and  action;  it  is  associated  with  hesitation 
and  choice.  Therefore  since  there  is  much  choice  in  intelli- 
gent behaviour  and  little  in  instinctive  behaviour,  the  latter 
tends  to  be  less  conscious  than  the  former. 

The  position  that  instinctive  behaviour  is  on  a  different 
evolutionary  tack  from  intelligent  behaviour  may  be  defended 
apart  from  Professor  Bergson's  particular  view  of  the  differ- 
ence. When  we  observe  a  spider  executing  an  extraordinarily 
complex  and  sharply  punctuated  series  of  movements  which 
result  in  a  web  and  doing  this  effectively  the  very  first  time, 
we  seem  to  be  in  a  world  different  from  that  of  intelligence. 
And  again  when  we  observe  insects  continuing  to  go  through 
a  laborious  routine  which  has  lost  all  its  point,  and  from 
bondage  to  which  the  least  modicum  of  intelligence  would 


210  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

deliver  them,  we  seem  to  be  in  a  world  very  different  from 
that  of  intelligence. 

While  the  frequent  limitations  of  instinctive  behaviour 
seem  to  us  to  point  to  a  differentia  between  it  and  intelligent 
behaviour,  we  find  further  evidence  in  considering  its  achieve- 
ments in  preparing  for  the  unforeseen  and  remote — for  off- 
spring which  will  never  be  seen,  for  the  evasion  of  a  winter 
which  will  never  be  experienced.  There  is  an  adjustment 
of  means  to  ends  which  certainly  does  not  rest  on  a  basis 
of  individual  experience.  It  is  possible  to  say  that  this 
organisation  for  the  attainment  of  remote  and  uniaiown  ends 
is  the  inherited  result  of  an  originally  intelligent  prevision, 
but  there  are  great  difficulties  in  face  of  this  theory.  There 
is  certainly  inherited  organisation,  but  there  is  no  evidence 
that  the  instinctive  behaviour  ever  passed  through  an  intelli- 
gent phase.  In  simple  cases,  we  can  imagine  a  sort  of 
intelligent  argument  from  analogy :  thus  the  woodpecker-like 
bird,  Colaptes  mexicanus,  feeds  on  insects  while  it  can,  but 
stores  acorns  against  the  day  when  no  insects  will  be  availa- 
ble. But  no  analogy  can  suggest  making  elaborate  provision 
for  offspring  that  are  never  seen. 

If  we  rule  out  the  theory  that  instinctive  behaviour  has 
no  psychical  side,  for  that  is  an  outrageously  false  simplicity, 
we  may  say  that  there  is  a  considerable  amount  of  common 
ground  between  the  various  theories.  There  are  plainly  two 
aspects  of  instinctive  behaviour — objective  and  subjective. 
There  is  the  hereditary  organisation  of  the  nervous  system 
which  has  been  so  prepared  or  evolved  that  the  specific  be- 
haviour comes  automatically  when  the  organism  is  appropri- 
ately stimulated.  But  there  is  also  the  associated  instinctive 
experience,  some  degrees  of  awareness  of  the  situation,  some 
memory  of  analogous  past  experiences,  some  more  or  less  dim 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  211 

consciousness  of  an  end.  Along  with  this  cognitive  factor 
there  is  a  conative  one,  a  predetennined  bending  of  the  con- 
stitutional bow  in  a  particular  direction.  And  there  may  also 
be,  in  some  cases,  an  evocation  of  associated  emotions. 

According  to  Professor  McDougall,  instinct  is  a  functional 
unit  which  is  transmitted  as  such  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion, but  it  implies  the  existence  in  the  creature's  innate 
constitution  of  three  things — "  first,  a  specialised  perceptual 
disposition;  secondly,  a  specific  conative  tendency  that  is  ex- 
cited when  this  perceptual  disposition  is  played  upon  by  the 
appropriate  sense-impression ;  and  thirdly,  some  co-ordinated 
system  of  motor  channels  through  which  the  conative  tend- 
ency works  towards  its  satisfaction  ". 

Less  technically  we  may  say  that  there  is  (1)  some  degree 
of  awareness  of  what  is  being  done,  (2)  a  feeling  of  activity 
and  a  bent  bow,  and  (3)  the  constitutionally  ingrained  link- 
ages which  make  a  chain  of  reflex-like  acts  possible. 

§  10.     Evidence  of  Intelligent  Behaviour. 

Especially  among  birds  and  mammals  we  find  behaviour 
which  cannot  be  adequately  described  without  using  psycho- 
logical terms.  It  implies,  objectively,  some  ^  trial-and-error  ' 
experiments  and  profiting  thereby,  some  ^  learning '  that  is 
more  than  woodenly  associative,  something  more  than  the 
dog's  secretion  of  salivary  juice  when  the  dinner  whistle  is 
blown.  We  infer  that  it  implies,  subjectively,  some  per- 
ceptual inference,  some  working  with  ideas,  some  apprecia- 
tion of  the  relations  of  things.  Tt  is  roflectivo  and  oxpori- 
mental  as  contrasted  with  reflex  and  instinctive. 

The  Greek  eagle  lets  the  tortoise  fall  on  the  rocks  so  that 
it  is  broken,  just  as  the  rook  does  with  the  fresh-water  mus- 
sel.    The  collie  anticipates  a  possible  straying  of  the  flock 


212  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

and  guards  against  its  occurrence.  Beavers  cut  a  canal  right 
through  an  island  in  a  big  river — a  task  not  practically  justi- 
fied till  it  is  completed.  It  is  strictly  impossible  to  'prove 
that  these  animals  really  put  two  and  two  together  as  we 
do  in  perceptual  inference,  but  no  less  generous  interpreta- 
tion seems  adequate. 

When  Dr.  G.  T.  Romanes's  chimpanzee  was  asked  for  a 
number  of  straws  up  to  five,  it  used  to  pick  up  the  required 
number  and  present  them  with  the  ends  exposed  between 
finger  and  thumb.  When  it  was  right  it  got  its  reward.  Some- 
times, however,  if  asked  for  four  straws,  it  would  gather  three 
to  save  time  and  double  one  of  them  so  that  four  ends  showed. 
When  a  reward  was  refused  on  such  occasions,  it  would 
straighten  out  the  doubled  straw,  pick  up  another  one,  and 
present  the  required  number.  In  a  case  of  this  sort  we  are 
inclined  to  admit  intelligence,  for  it  was  rather  subtle  and 
novel,  and  we  know  that  the  chimpanzee  has  a  highly  de- 
veloped brain. 

But  pass  to  one  of  Miss  Drzewina's  experiments  with 
hermit-crabs.  She  removed  them  from  their  borrowed  shells 
and  gave  them  similar  shells  which  had  been  plastered  up. 
The  hermit-crabs  spent  a  long  time  trying  to  get  into  these 
closed  shells.  Eventually^  however,  they  gave  it  up  as  hope- 
less, as  of  course  it  was.  When  some  shells  of  the  same 
sort,  but  empty,  were  put  into  the  aquarium  the  hermit- 
crabs  would  not  look  at  them.  The  established  association 
was  too  strong.  Yet  when  some  other  shells  of  a  different 
shape  were  introduced,  the  hermit-crabs  tried  them  at  once. 
The  question  is  whether  this  also  was  intelligent  behaviour, 
or  whether  it  illustrated  what  we  do  not  understand,  a  profit- 
ing by  experience  on  a  lower  than  an  intellectual  level,  such 
as  must  form  the  basis  of  the  very  effective  agency  of  the 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  213 

brainless,  ganglionless  starfish  already  referred  to.  And  our 
inclination  to  be  parsimonious  in  our  interpretation  is  of 
course  strengthened  by  the  fact  that  the  hermit-crab  belongs 
to  the  '  little  brain  '  type  of  organisation  on  quite  a  different 
line  of  evolution  from  Vertebrates.  Many  spiders  are  read- 
ily deceived  if  a  vibrating  tuning  fork  is  brought  near  their 
web.  They  rush  out  to  deal  with  the  situation — responding 
to  the  familiar  tremor  stimulus.  They  may  be  cheated  over 
and  over  again.  In  one  case,  however,  after  a  tantalising 
deception  extending  over  fifteen  days,  the  spider  ceased  to 
give  any  attention  to  the  tuning  fork.  The  question  is 
whether  we  must  in  such  a  case  postulate  memory  and  per- 
ceptual inference,  or  whether  some  purely  physiological  in- 
terpretation is  adequate.  Thus  the  '  getting  used  to  '  a  stim- 
ulus may  be  in  some  cases  due  to  fatigue,  in  the  wide  sense, 
including  dulled  sensation.  Our  inclination  to  a  parsimoni- 
ous interpretation  in  such  a  case  as  this  is  strengthened  by 
the  fact  that  even  brainless  and  ganglionless  animals  illus- 
trate a  modification  of  activity  by  individual  experience. 
Repeated  stimulation  alters  ^  the  physiological  condition  '  of 
an  animal  so  that  it  gives  an  intensified  reaction  to  a  mod- 
erate stimulus,  as  in  the  case  of  an  earthworm  that  has  been 
teased  a  little.  Contrariwise,  repeated  stimulation  that  leads 
to  nothing  may  result  in  the  suppression  of  a  reaction,  as  in 
sea-urchins  that  soon  stop  answering  back  to  fruitless  changes 
in  light  and  shade,  or  in  sea-anemones  that  cease  to  respond 
to  the  touch  of  false  food.  Even  the  carnivorous  plant, 
Venus's  Ely  Trap,  refuses  to  be  duped  many  times  in  suc- 
cession. 

One  of  the  marks  of  intelligence  is  profiting  by  experience 
— learning.  At  a  lower  level  there  is  temporary  modification 
of  behaviour,  and  this  passes,  insensibly  we  think,  into  last- 


214  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

ing  modification.  A  crab  or  a  crayfish  learns  in  a  week  or 
two  to  distinguish  infallibly  between  the  right  way  and  the 
wrong  way  to  food  and  freedom.  How  far  down  this  capac- 
ity extends  we  do  not  know;  perhaps  it  requires  a  nervous 
system  of  considerable  complexity.  If  we  obey  the  law  of 
parsimony,  we  are  led  to  the  conclusion  that  the  creature 
under  sufficient  stimulus  of  reward  and  "  of  shortening  a 
period  of  unpleasantness  and  unrest ",  forms  a  habit  without 
'  knowing  how  \  though  probably  with  high-strung  attention 
and  delicate  quivering  sensitiveness,  and  precise  registration 
of  sequences  of  movements ;  and  that  after  the  trick  has  been 
learned  it  trusts  itself,  as  a  piano-player  does  who  learns  in 
quite  a  different  way.  Miss  Washburn  notes  that  ''  an  ani- 
mal that  has  gone  astray  on  the  path  will  often  find  the  way 
back  to  the  starting-point,  and  from  there  traverse  the  whole 
road  rapidly  and  unerringly,  apparently  in  the  same  way 
that  a  piano-player  who  has  a  piece  "  at  his  fingers'  ends  ^\ 
but  has  stumbled  in  a  passage,  can  go  through  with  entire 
success  if  he  starts  over  again.  As  piano-players  know, 
in  such  a  case  it  is  much  better  not  to  attend  to  stimuli 
at  all,  but  to  think  of  something  else;  the  movements  will 
take  care  of  themselves  better  if  consciousness  intervenes  as 
little  as  possible '^  (1909,  p.  231). 

Many  experiments  have  been  made  with  rats,  dogs,  cats, 
chicks,  and  other  creatures,  which  learn  in  the  course  of 
time  to  find  their  way  out  of  labyrinths  and  puzzle-boxes. 
After  some  practice  they  are  left  in  peace  for  a  few  days 
and  then  replaced  in  the  previous  situation.  It  is  observed 
that  they  make  fewer  useless  movements,  that  they  sometimes 
make  none.  The  question  is  whether  ideas  are  at  work, 
whether  the  creatures  think.  Have  they  remembered  images 
of  their  successful  movements,  or  do  they  obey  the  prompt- 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  215 

ings  of  an  organismal  registration  in  which  ideas  have  not 
been  involved  ? 

In  her  admirable  book  on  The  Animal  Mind,  Miss  Wash- 
burn points  out  that  images  of  a  Hampton  Court  maze  are 
difficult,  and  that  the  slow  learning  and  the  nature  of  the 
mistakes  do  not  suggest  working  with  ideas.  Similarly,  in 
regard  to  puzzle-boxes,  she  says  that  the  slow  learning,  by 
gradual  elimination  of  useless  movements,  suggests  the  ab- 
sence of  any  guiding  idea  of  the  action,  and  Professor  Thorn- 
dike,  who  initiated  these  experiments,  corroborates  this  view 
by  pointing  to  the  entire  lack  of  inferential  or  reflective 
imitation.  That  is  to  say,  the  successful  behaviour  of  com- 
panions does  not  seem  to  be  suggestive.  But  other  observers, 
such  as  Professor  Hobhouse,  have  come  to  the  opposite  conclu- 
sion, and  in  any  case,  as  has  been  well  said,  ''  We  cannot 
conclude  that  an  animal  is  incapable  of  ideas  because  it  does 
not  have  them  suggested  to  it  under  circumstances  that  would 
suggest  them  to  our  minds.'' 

§  11.     Secondary  Simplifications  of  Behaviour. 

The  difficulty  of  understanding  animal  behaviour  is  in- 
creased by  the  occurrence  of  secondary  simplification.  We 
are  familiar  with  this  in  the  individual  habituation  of  ex- 
ercises which  originally  required  attentive  selection  and 
detailed  control.  What  required  conscious  regulation  from 
step  to  step  becomes  ^  automatic  ',  requiring  very  little  atten- 
tion, and  the  objective  side  of  this  is  believed  to  be  the  es- 
tablishment of  nerve-paths  of  least  resistance,  of  linkages 
such  that  one  phase  of  the  behaviour  automatically  evokes 
the  next.  One  of  the  features  is  the  dropping  out  of  what 
is  called  implicit  behaviour,  a  common  name  for  the  move- 
ments, too  slight  for  detection,  which  seem  at  first  to  inter- 


216  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

vene,  e.g.,  in  type-writing  and  piano-playing,  between  the 
external  stimulus  and  the  overt  reactions  when  more  than  a 
single  reflex  is  involved. 

There  is  not  at  present  any  convincing  evidence  that  the 
direct  results  of  habituation  can  be  as  such  entailed  on  the  off- 
spring, and  there  are  few  available  facts  in  support  of  the 
theory  once  widely  held  that  instinctive  predispositions  to 
go  through  a  certain  routine  are  the  hereditary  results  of  the 
habituation  of  what  was  originally  intelligent.  That  the 
instinctive  capacities  are  inborn  is  certain,  but  it  does  not 
follow  that  they  have  been  due  to  ^  lapsed  intelligence  '.  At 
the  same  time,  it  is  a  fact  of  observation  that  the  individual 
performance  of  a  piece  of  instinctive  routine  may  bring  with 
it  an  increased  perfection. 

It  is  very  interesting  to  find  that  particular  reactions 
periodically  repeated  may  take  such  a  gi'ip  of  the  individual 
constitution  that  they  are  exhibited  even  in  the  absence  of 
the  liberating  external  stimulus.  It  is  probable  that  this 
implies,  in  part  at  least,  that  long  continuance  of  external 
periodicities  has  established  internal  rhythms  in  some  im- 
portant part  of  the  metabolism  of  the  individual  creature. 

In  the  simplest  forms  of  behaviour,  which  imply  little 
more  than  a  co-ordination  of  a  series  of  reflexes  towards  a 
desired  result,  there  must  also  be  organic  registration.  This 
is  shown  by  the  simple  experiment  of  putting  a  starfish  on 
its  back,  for  it  learns  to  right  itself  more  and  more  quickly 
as  time  goes  on.  Although  its  effective  behaviour  is  not 
instinctive,  for  it  has  to  be  learned,  nor  intelligent,  since 
there  are  no  nerve-ganglia,  it  improves  with  practice. 

We  shall  return  to  the  subject  when  we  come  to  discuss 
the  evolution  of  behaviour,  but  in  the  meantime  we  notice 
the  suggestion  that  it  is,  metaphorically  speaking,  part  of  the 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  217 

tactics  of  Animate  ISTature  to  economise  mental  activity  for 
higher  issues  by  a  structural  organisation  or  registration 
(badly  called  mechanisation)  of  capacities  for  effective 
agency.  Thus  instinctive  capacity  being  a  substitute  for 
instruction  may  make  emancipated  experiment  practicable, 
as  birds  well  illustrate. 

§  12.     Rational  Conduct. 

In  the  case  of  man,  and  probably  in  his  case  only,  there 
is  sometimes  evidence  of  rational  conduct  as  contrasted  with 
intelligent  behaviour.  We  cannot  describe  such  conduct  with- 
out using  general  terms ;  we  know  personally  that,  like 
original  thinking,  it  involves  experimenting  with  abstract 
ideas ;  it  implies  conceptual  as  distinguished  from  perceptual 
inference ;  it  is  controlled  in  reference  to  an  ideal  or  pur- 
pose. We  wonder  whether  even  at  this  level  there  may  not 
be  a  continuance  of  the  organisation-process,  for  mathema- 
ticians of  distinction  and  other  original  thinkers  assure  us 
of  the  reality  of  unconscious  cerebration,  and  the  absolute 
trustworthiness  of  the  immediate  ethical  judgment  of  fine 
characters  may  be  another  illustration  in  a  different  field. 
There  is  an  assured  immediacy  of  reaction  in  many  cases 
that  makes  the  ordinary  person  marvel,  and  leaves  the  moral 
genius  free  to  tackle  more  difficult  problems. 

§  13.     General  Impressions  of  Animal  Behaviour, 

What  we  see  is  like  a  great  staircase,  exhibiting  wonderful 
perfection  at  different  levels,  such  as  those  of  tropisms,  in- 
stincts, and  intelligence.  We  may  distinguish  a  main  line 
of  experimenting,  ^  trial  and  error ',  and  initiative  from  the 
side  lines  in  which  organisation  or  automatisation  of  be- 
haviour predominates  over  immediately  controlled  direction. 


218  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

But  while  there  is  a  hierarchy  of  activities,  the  diverse  modes 
often  overlap.  Just  as  the  surface  relief  of  a  countryside 
may  show  in  one  feature  the  outcrop  of  various  strata  of 
very  different  geological  age,  so  in  an  animal's  behaviour 
there  is  often  a  mingling  of  different  kinds  of  activities  uni- 
fied in  a  way  that  baffles  analysis.  Instinct  concatenates  re- 
flexes, and  intelligence  catches  up  tropisms.  Instinctive 
capacities  may  form  a  basis  for  an  advance  in  intelligence ; 
and  intelligently  controlled  behaviour  may  sink  into  habit. 
We  have  to  distinguish  in  general  (a)  the  ingrained  or  en- 
tailed hereditary  capacities  of  responding  effectively  to  cer- 
tain stimuli,  circumstances,  and  situations;  (h)  the  indi- 
vidual tentatives,  selections,  adjustments,  and  '  learning ' 
which  seem  to  many  to  imply  some  degree  of  awareness  or 
pre-awareness  and  some  conative  element;  and  (c)  the  in- 
dividual retention  and  registration  of  experience  which  facil- 
itates for  the  individual  the  rapid  repetition  of  effective 
reactions. 

Our  survey  suggests  some  general  impressions: — (1)  The 
first  is  a  deepening  of  rational  wonder  before  the  extraordi- 
nary variety  of  ways  in  which  living  creatures  express  them- 
selves, assert  themselves,  enjoy  themselves,  and  bend  the 
Titan  of  the  inorganic  to  their  indomitable  endeavour.  An 
unsophisticated  but  shrewd  obsen^er  of  Nature  once  said  that 
he  could  not  understand  a  man  intelligently  watching  an  ant- 
hill and  remaining  irreligious. 

(2)  The  second  is  an  impression  of  the  pervasiveness  of 
a  kind  of  behaviour  which,  considered  objectively,  is  closely 
analogous  to  what  we  know  in  our  case  to  be  associated  with 
intelligent  control.  The  inference,  which  does  not  admit 
of  direct  verification,  is  that  consciousness  in  some  form  is 
pervasive.     ^Ye  cannot  well  describe  the  behaviour  of  even 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  219 

brainless  animals  without  using  words  like  selecting,  trying, 
learning,  and  profiting  by  experience.  We  cannot  demon- 
strate the  existence  of  consciousness  in  the  lower  animals,  but, 
as  Professor  Jennings  observes,  "  objective  investigation  is 
as  favourable  to  the  view  of  the  general  distribution  of  con- 
sciousness throughout  animals  as  it  could  well  be"  (1906, 
p.  337).  ^'  So  far  as  objective  evidence  goes  there  is  no 
difference  in  kind,  but  a  complete  continuity  between  the 
behaviour  of  lower  and  of  higher  organisms  "  (1906,  p.  335). 
We  start  at  one  end  with  our  own  doings,  in  some  of 
which  intelligence  counts,  we  pass  gradually,  though  never 
perhaps  by  rigid  demonstration,  through  the  behaviour  of 
our  fellows,  our  horses  and  dogs,  birds  and  fishes,  spiders 
and  hermit-crabs,  ganglionless  starfishes  and  sea-anemones, 
to  the  extraordinarily  puzzling  condensed  individualities  of 
Infusorians  and  Amoebae.  JSTor  will  it  be  easy  to  shut  out 
carnivorous  plants  and  others  that  stir  themselves  in  what 
seems  to  us  a  sleep-life,  whose  dreams  are  flowers.  At  all 
levels  of  organisation  we  find  behaviour  which,  objectively 
considered,  is  like  our  intelligent  behaviour.  We  know  that 
in  many  cases  the  creatures  are  not  so  clever  as  they  look, 
and  we  do  not  know  of  any  way  of  proving  that  mentality 
pervades  it  all.  But  it  is  impossible  to  think  of  intelligently 
controlled  behaviour  evolving  from  behaviour  in  which  men- 
tality was  wholly  absent,  and  it  seems  clearest  to  think  of 
all  organisms  as  psycho-physical  individualities. 

(3)  Third  we  get  a  vivid  impression  that  the  realm  of 
organisms  stands  out  in  strong  relief  against  the  inorganic 
background.  The  not-living  world  is  a  domain  of  mechauicnl 
necessitation,  without  initiatives;  a  domain  of  uniformities, 
without  alternatives;  a  domain  of  absolute  determination, 
without  spontaneity;  a  domain  whore  there  is  no  individn- 


220  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

ality,  and  therefore  no  behaviour.  It  is  an  interesting  point 
that  the  rare  occasions  on  which  one  applies  the  term  be- 
haviour to  a  not-living  thing  are  when  one  is  dealing  with 
something  like  a  ship  to  which  man  has  given  a  quasl-indi- 
viduality. 

(4)  Perhaps  the  most  important  question  before  us  is 
whether  the  behaviour  of  organisms  has  any  real  spontaneity, 
precluding  or  limiting  the  possibility  of  prediction,  or 
whether  the  suggestion  of  spontaneity  is  fictitious  and  due 
to  the  complexity  of  the  conditions.  It  was  once  true  to 
say  that  the  wind  bloweth  where  it  listeth,  but  now  the 
meteorologist  tells  us  whence  it  comes  and  whither  it  goes. 
Are  we,  in  our  ignorance  or  obscurantism,  postulating  for 
the  living  creature  a  spontaneity  and  unpredictability  such 
as  our  forefathers  believed  to  be  exhibited  by  the  wind  ?  This 
is  the  problem  of  biological  determinism,  analogous  to  the 
problem  of  psychological  determinism  and  free  will.  We 
venture  to  say  just  a  little  on  this  difficult  problem. 

As  we  ascend  the  scale  of  being  there  is  a  growing  amount 
of  experimental  indeterminism.  An  organism  is  free  as  com- 
pared with  a  not-living  system.  When  we  begin  experiment- 
ing with  a  starfish,  we  cannot  tell  what  it  will  do  in  the 
various  situations  in  which  we  place  it,  but  after  we  have 
experimented  for  a  long  time  we  can  tell  what  the  starfish 
we  have  worked  with  will  do  under  certain  circumstances, 
provided  always  that  we  know  its  '  physiological  condition '. 
For  a  hungry  animal  does  not  behave  as  a  full-fed  one  does. 
But  when  we  are  rash  enough  to  make  a  prediction  in  regard 
to  the  behaviour  of  a  fresh  starfish,  of  the  same  kind  and 
weight  and  size,  we  are  very  likely  to  be  very  far  wrong. 
Why  is  this  ?  It  is  otherwise  in  the  inorganic  world,  where 
we  can  safely  argue  from  one  thing  to  another  thing  of  the 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  221 

same  kind.  The  difference  is  not  one  of  complexity,  but  of 
kind.  The  starfish  is  not  mechanically  necessitated  to  act 
as  it  does;  it  often  checkmates  mechanism.  Even  when  we 
say  that  it  is  coerced  by  its  own  brainless  constitution  we 
must  remember  that  it  was  itself  in  some  degree  an  agent  in 
establishing  that  constitution. 

Similarly,  an  animal  with  a  big  brain,  i.e.,  a  -^veil- 
developed  capacity  for  intelligent  behaviour,  is  free  com- 
pared with  a  starfish.  By  careful  study  we  may  reduce 
the  experimental  indeterminism  and  predict  with  some  suc- 
cess what  our  dog  will  do  in  a  particular  situation.  But  we 
are  likely  to  make  a  bigger  mistake  than  we  made  with  our 
starfishes  if  we  argue  from  our  dog  to  our  neighbour's.  For 
why,  the  individuality  of  the  dog  is  so  much  greater  than 
that  of  the  starfish.  The  details  of  its  behaviour  are  deter- 
mined much  less  by  its  general  constitution  and  much  more 
by  the  character  which  it  has  itself  been  an  agent  in  building 
up.  Thus  we  see  in  the  realm  of  organisms  a  ladder  of 
emancipation — the  evolution  of  free-will. 

The  impression  which  we  get  from  the  study  of  even  star- 
fishes seems  to  us  to  hold  for  the  whole  realm  of  Animate 
Nature  and  for  ourselves  in  it.  We  find  neither  systems  of 
absolute  determinism  nor  ^  miscellanies  of  miracles ',  but 
systems  in  which  determinism  and  freedom  are  both  illus- 
trated, sometimes  more  of  the  one  and  sometimes  more  of  the 
other.  The  enregistrations  within  an  organism  limit  its 
actions  within  certain  trammels ;  the  reflexes,  the  tropisms, 
the  instincts,  the  hereditary  appetites  are  all  determinist 
in  effect;  but  our  conception  of  the  typical  organism  is  not 
complete  unless  we  recognise  its  possibilities  of  initiative 
and  experiment,  of  trial  and  error,  of  choice  and  control. 
Perhaps  we  may  profitably  continue  into  the  realms  of  ethics 


222  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

aud  religion  this  compromise  between  determinist  and  free- 
will interpretations  which  biology  suggests. 

SUMMARY. 

Only  in  the  realm  of  organisms  is  there  true  behaviour — in  which 
the  creature  is  an  agent  and  exliibits  a  correlated  or  concatenated 
series  of  acts,  effective  towards  some  definite  result  favourable  to 
the  harmony  of  vital  processes  and  the  continuance  of  the  race. 

Among  unicellular  or  non-cellular  organisms  there  is  often  a 
restless  locomotor  activity,  hardly  on  the  level  of  behaviour,  which 
is  sustained  by  the  everyday  internal  functions  and  is  not  very 
clearly  separable  from  them.  There  are  also  definite  organic  re- 
actions to  all  sorts  of  stimuli  except  sound  waves,  corresponding 
in  a  far-off  way  to  reflex  actions  in  higher  animals.  In  difficult 
situations  there  may  be  a  tnal-and-error  procedure,  a  selection  of 
the  fittest  answer  and  a  short-lived  modification  of  behaviour  in 
relation  to  experience.  As  Professor  Jennings  especially  has 
shown,  there  is  among  the  simplest  animals  the  counterpart  of 
intelligent  behaviour. 

Of  great  interest  is  the  shell-building  of  some  of  the  arenaceous 
Foraminifera,  where  particular  materials,  such  as  sponge-spicules, 
are  selected  from  amid  an  embarrassment  of  alternatives,  and 
where  the  selected  material  is  utilised  in  a  particularly  effective  way. 

Reflex  actions  are  usually  movements  of  parts,  uniform  reactions 
to  a  particular  kind  of  external  or  internal  stimulus,  exhibited  ap- 
proximately to  the  same  extent  by  all  animals  of  the  same  kind, 
and  depending  on  inborn  structural  linkages  of  nerve-cells  and 
muscle-cells.  But  reflexes,  though  not  alterable  by  experience,  are 
sometimes  controlled  by  what  looks  like  some  appreciation  of  cir- 
cumstances.   '  Chain-reflexes '  are  often  broken. 

Another  simple  form  of  animal  activity  is  seen  in  tropisms — 
more  or  less  obhgatory  movements,  like  the  moth's  to  the  candle, 
which  automatically  tend  to  secure  physiological  equilibrium  in 
reference  to  particular  stimuli.  But  the  tropistic  coercion  is  some- 
times successfully  thwarted  by  individual  experiment  on  the  part 
of  the  organism. 

One  of  the  most  important  results  of  recent  studies  is  the  proof 
that  many  brainless  and  even  ganglionless  animals,  such  as  star- 
fishes and  sea-urchins,  exhibit  a  counterpart  of  the  intelligent  be- 


ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR  223 

haviour  of  higher  animals.  They  show  a  *  trial-and-orror ' 
method,  a  selection  of  regulatory  responses,  and,  for  a  short  time  at 
least,  a  profiting  by  experience.  There  is  experimenting  below  the 
level  of  perceptual  inference. 

Among  the  more  complex  animals  there  seem  to  be  two  distinct 
modes  of  effective  behaviour,  namely,  instinctive  and  intelligent  be- 
haviour. The  former  finds  its  finest  expression  in  the  '  little  brain  ' 
types,  such  as  ants,  bees,  and  wasps;  the  latter  in  the  'big  brain' 
types,  such  as  birds  and  mammals.  Each  mode  has  its  excellencies 
and  its  limitations. 

Instinctive  behaviour  agrees  with  reflex  action  in  being  dependent 
on  a  hereditary  nervous  predisposition  characteristic  of  the  species, 
but  it  is  a  concatenated  series  of  correlated  acts  of  the  whole  crea- 
ture. There  is  a  hereditary  awareness  of  the  practical  significance 
of  certain  things  and  configurations,  and  a  hereditary  impulsion 
to  a  precise  routine.  The  capacity  may  be  improved  by  experience, 
but  it  is  to  some  degree  independent  of  individual  learning.  It 
is  not  experimental,  inferential,  or  reflective  like  inteUigent  be- 
haviour, and  has  very  striking  limitations.  It  is  often  linked  with 
intelligence,  especially  in  the  '  big  brain '  types,  such  as  birds. 

As  regards  the  nature  of  instinct,  there  are  three  main  theories 
at  present  in  the  field,  between  which  it  is  too  soon  to  decide  dog- 
matically. (A)  Some  investigators  rank  instinctive  behaviour  near 
reflex  actions,  as  due  to  non-cognitive  hereditary  predispositions  to 
follow  out  a  certain  routine  when  a  number  of  triggers  are  pulled. 
(B)  Others  regard  instinctive  behaviour  as  quite  inseparable  from 
intelligent  behaviour.  (C)  According  to  others,  instinct  and  in- 
telligence are  two  radically  different,  though  often  co-operative, 
kinds  of  knowing,  which  have  evolved  along  divergent  lines. 

Among  birds  and  mammals,  in  particular,  there  is  evidence  of 
intelligent  behaviour.  It  implies,  objectively,  some  '  trial-and- 
error'  experiments  and  profiting  thereby.  It  implies,  subjectively, 
some  perceptual  inference.  It  is  reflective  as  contrasted  with  in- 
stinctive. 

As  is  well  known,  a  secondary  simplicity  often  comes  about  in  the 
individual  lifetime,  when  what  originally  required  attentive  selection 
and  detailed  control  becomes  habitual.  But  it  is  not  known  to 
what  extent,  if  any,  the  results  of  habituation  can  be  entailed  on 
the  offspring.  It  seems  at  present  improbable  that  instincts  can 
arise  in  this  way.  Yet,  as  will  be  seen  later  on,  it  seems  to  be 
part  of  the  tactics  of  Animate  Nature  to  economise  mental  activity 


224.  ANIMAL  BEHAVIOUR 

for  higher  issues  by  a  structural  organisation  (badly  called 
mechanisation)  of  capacities  for  effective  behaviour. 

In  the  case  of  man  there  is  evidence  of  rational  conduct  on  a 
higher  level  than  intelligent  behaviour.  It  implies  conceptual  as 
distinguished  from  perceptual  inference,  and  is  controlled  in  ref- 
erence to  general  ideas,  '  values,'  or  conscious  purpose. 

Four  general  impressions  stand  out: — (1)  The  extraordinary 
variety  of  ways  in  which  living  creatures  express  themselves,  assert 
themselves,  and  bend  the  Titan  of  the  inorganic  to  their  endeavour. 

(2)  The  pervasiveness  of  mentality  at  all   levels  of  organisation. 

(3)  The  growing  scope  of  spontaneity  and  individuality  as  we 
ascend  the  series.  (4)  A  gradual  emancipation  of  the  organism  from 
environmental  coercion. 


LECTURE  VII. 
THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND. 


LECTURE  VII. 
THE  PEOBLEM  OE  BODY  AND  MIND. 

§  1.  The  Approach  to  the  Problem.  §  2.  What  Must  Be  Recog- 
nised from  the  Biological  Side.  §  3.  What  Must  Be  Recog- 
nised from  the  Humanist  Side.  §  4.  Various  Theories  of  the 
Relation  of  '  Mind  '  and  '  Body  \  §  5.  Monistic  Speculation 
along  the  Line  of  the  Double-Aspect  or  Correlation  Tlieonj. 

§  1.     The  A'pprocbch  to  the  Problem. 

It  is  with  a  heightened  sense  of  responsibility  that  we 
turn  to  the  ancient  problem  of  the  relation  of  body  and 
mind.  But  it  is  a  question  in  regard  to  which  the  biologist 
has  something  to  say,  and  it  cannot  be  evaded  in  a  study 
of  Animate  Nature  nor  in  prolegomena  to  a  philosophy  of 
Animate  Nature.  By  the  latter  we  mean  a  consistent  think- 
ing together  of  what  we  know  and  feel  about  Animate  Na- 
ture along  with  what  we  know  and  feel  about  other  orders 
of  facts. 

As  the  view  to  which  a  biologist  is  most  naturally  led 
may  seem,  at  first  sight,  disappointing,  and  may  even  be 
misunderstood  as  a  capitulation  of  the  citadel  of  personality, 
we  would  plead  that  after  we  get  past  what  seems  to  most 
thinkers  the  quite  untenable  position  of  crude  materialism, 
with  its  Gothamite  metaphysic,  and  what  seems  to  most 
scientific  workers  the  quite  untenable  position  of  subjective 
idealism,  and  the  theory  of  epiphenomenalism,  which  is 
materialism  in  modern  garb,  the  conclusion  we  come  to  does 
not  imply  any  practical  depreciation  of  the  reality  of  the 
bodily  system  and  activity  on  the  one  hand,  or  of  spiritual 

227 


228       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

values  and  the  thought-life  on  the  other.  If  we  avoid  the 
three  fatal  errors  of  false  simplicity  just  mentioned,  it  is 
not  perhaps  of  great  moment  what  theory — monist  or  dual- 
ist, parallelist  or  animist — we  are  led  to  adopt.  We  must 
choose  the  interpretation  which  is  most  consistent  with  the 
rest  of  our  thinking  and  experience. 

What  is  familiar  ground  to  the  expert  philosopher  is  full 
of  pitfalls  alike  to  the  biologist  and  to  the  man  in  the  street, 
and  we  probably  do  well  to  remind  ourselves  that  the  way 
we  put  the  question  of  the  relation  between  mind  and  body 
may  be  misleading.  It  is  often  asked:  Is  the  body  the  real 
thing  and  the  mind  a  derivative  illusion?  Or  is  the  mind 
alone  real  and  the  body  in  some  way  dependent?  These 
questions  are  badly  put,  for  both  bodily  activity  and  the 
thought-life  are  real.  A  conviction  of  the  actuality  of  the 
body  as  an  agent  to  be  reckoned  with  need  not  imply  that 
the  mind  is  in  any  way  illusory.  Nor  need  a  conviction  of 
the  reality  of  the  mind,  readily  reached  by  any  one  who  has 
ever  made  up  his  mind,  imply  that  the  body  is  not  substan- 
tial and  effective.  The  practical  truth  is,  that  what  we  call 
the  mind  counts,  and  that  what  we  call  the  body  counts;  or 
perhaps  that  what  counts  is  body-mind  or  mind-body.  So 
far  there  is  general  agreement.  But  are  there  two  distinct 
and  disparate  real  activities — a  player  and  an  instrument, 
so  to  speak,  or  is  there  one  order  including  both  bodily  and 
mental  processes,  metabolism  and  awareness  of  meaning? 
Is  there  interaction  of  two  orders  of  being,  or  correlation 
within  one  order?     (See  Lloyd  Morgan,  1915,  p.  6.) 

We  know  ourselves  by  our  senses  as  organisms;  we  know 
ourselves  also  as  thinking,  feeling,  purposing,  endeavouring 
beings.  For  immediate  experience  there  is  unity.  For 
scientific  purposes,  however,   it  seems   almost  necessary  to 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       229 

separate  off  the  two  aspects,  or  processes,  or  systems,  and 
the  problem  arises  how  we  are  to  think  of  them  in  relation 
to  one  another.  But  the  fact  is  that  '  body  '  and  '  mind  ' 
are  alike  abstractions.  Prof.  A.  E.  Taylor  has  said :  ''  The 
severance  of  the  original  unity  of  experience  into  a  physi- 
cal and  a  psychical  aspect  is  entirely  a  product  of  our  own 
abstraction-making  intellect.  ^  Body  '  and  '  Soul '  are  not 
given  actualities  of  experience,  but  artificial  mental  construc- 
tions of  our  own  "  (1903,  p.  314). 

Yet  here  again,  while  many  of  us  are  impressed  in  our 
experience  with  the  inter-dependence  rather  than  independ- 
ence of  these  ^^  two  aspects  " — bodily  and  mental — we  must 
admit  that  we  do  not  find  it  an  easy  task  to  explain  what 
we  mean  by  the  phrase  "  two  aspects  ''  in  this  particular 
connection.     The  words  do  not  seem  to  grip. 

In  stating  the  problem  Prof.  Lloyd  Morgan  takes  the 
case  of  the  processes  involved  in  seeing  a  candle.  The  rays 
of  light  affect  the  receptors  of  the  retina,  a  physical  related- 
ness  (a),  but  as  the  stimulus  passes  by  optic  neurones  to 
the  visual  centre  in  the  occipital  lobe  of  the  cerebrum,  there 
is  a  superadded  physiological  factor  (h),  so  that  the  entire 
process  may  be  called  ah.  But  if  we  definitely  take  note  of 
the  candle  and  adjust  ourselves  deliberately  to  it  there  seems 
to  be  a  third  kind  of  relatedness,  a  psychical  process,  so  that 
the  whole  process  may  be  called  ahc.  We  have  thus  (1) 
the  receptors  in  physical  relation  to  the  physical  object; 
(2)  the  visual  centre  in  physiological  and  physical  relation 
to  the  receptors  and  through  them  to  the  object;  and  (3) 
something  in  psychical  relation  in  some  way  to  the  visual 
centre,  and  through"  it  to  the  receptors,  and  ultimately  and 
essentially  to  the  candle  as  representing  the  external  world. 
This  something  we  call   the   mind.      (1915,   p.   4)    .     .    . 


230       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

^'  The  mind  is  somehow  a  mid-term  receiving  messages  from 
the  object  in  the  external  world  and  issuing  messages  to  the 
organs  concerned  in  behaving  appropriately  to  that  object. 
Whenever  the  mind  is  thus  effective  in  guidance  we  have 
what  we  called  ahc-ipYOcess.  The  distinguishing  feature  in 
such  guidance  is  a  context  of  meaning  within  a  sphere  of 
interest."  Using  the  term  mind  in  this  sense,  we  have  to 
consider  its  relation  to  the  processes  that  go  on  in  the  cortex 
of  the  brain,  and,  anticipating  our  subsequent  discussion, 
we  may  say  that  there  are  two  main  views.  "  According 
to  the  first  there  are  two  radically  distinct  and  wholly  dis- 
parate orders  of  being — the  mental  order  and  the  physical 
order,"  which  interact.  ^'  According  to  the  second  there 
is  only  one  order  within  which  there  are  distinguishable 
types  of  relatedness  and  of  process,  e.g.,  physical,  physio- 
logical, and  psychical.  Any  given  term  may  be  coincidentally 
related  to  other  terms  in  these  severally  distinguishable  ways. 
This  is  the  a&c-interpretation  already  suggested."  On  the 
second  view  the  c  process  is  always  correlated  with  ah 
processes ;  on  the  first  view  the  c  process  is  independent  of 
any  physiological  correlate. 

§  2.     What  Must  Be  Recognised  from  the  Biological  Side. 

It  is  possible,  as  we  have  seen,  to  apply  to  a  living  body 
many  of  the  methods  of  chemistry  and  physics,  and  to  give 
chemical  and  physical  descriptions  of  isolated  observed 
processes.  The  more  that  is  done,  the  more  will  the  distinc- 
tively vital  stand  out  in  relief.  If  it  can  be  shown  that  the 
balsam's  jerking  out  of  its  seeds  admits  of  complete  mechani- 
cal description  in  terms  of  tensions,  elasticity,  and  the  like 
the  more  obvious  will  be  the  distinctively  vital  factor  in 
the  sundew's  fly-catching  successes.     But  no  adequate  chem- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       2.31 

ico-physical  description  has  yet  been  given  of  any  distinc- 
tively vital  process.  A  new  aspect  of  reality  wells  u})  within 
organisms,  which  are  material  systems  none  the  less,  and 
we  require  new  concepts  for  its  description.  Even  in  their 
simplest  forms  organisms  are  integrated  systems,  capable 
of  unified  regulatory  action  and  of  registering  experiences. 
But  just  as  the  mechanical  description  has  its  limitations, 
so  is  it  with  the  biological.  In  our  study  of  Animal  Be- 
haviour we  have  seen  evidence  of  the  gradual  disclosure 
of  another  aspect  of  reality  which  transcends  the  biological. 
Mentality  wells  up  from  the  spring.  It  appears  at  first  in 
traces  only,  so  that  we  are  not  quite  sure  whether  it  is  there 
or  not,  just  as  it  is  not  very  easy  to  be  sure  whether  a 
calcareous  Alga,  or  a  dormant  chrysalis,  or  a  hibernating 
snail  is  living  or  not.  But  by  and  by  there  is  a  copious 
flow,  and  we  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  the  rook  or 
the  parrot,  the  dog  or  the  elephant,  has  a  mind  of  its  own. 
The  student  of  science  is  organically  more  interested  in  es- 
tablishing the  fact  that  the  study  of  living  things  requires 
concepts  which  are  not  needed  in  the  study  of  the  heavenly 
bodies,  than  in  a  discussion  of  what,  in  principle,  is  meant 
by  Life.  Similarly  he  is  more  interested  in  establishing  the 
fact  that  the  study  of  animal  behaviour — and  not  in  its 
higher  reaches  only — requires  concepts  which  are  not  needed 
in  the  study  of  the  everyday  functions  of  the  body,  than 
in  a  discussion  of  what  we  mean  bv  Mind.  But  we  cannot 
be  satisfied  without  at  least  facing  the  old  problem  of  the 
relation  between  body  and  mind.  It  is  in  reality  a  meta- 
physical question,  but  the  metaphysical  interpretation  must 
be  consistent  with  what  we  know  of  the  facts,  and  we  shall 
begin  by  stating  what  must  be  recognised  from  the  bio- 
logical side. 


232       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

Our  theory  of  the  relation  of  mind  and  body  (if  it  be  a 
relation)  must  be  consistent  with  what  we  know  of  individ- 
ual development.  The  intelligent  mammal  begins  its  in- 
dividual life  as  a  pinhead-like  cell,  and  for  a  long  time  it 
must  be  admitted  that  psychological  methods  or  formula? 
are  quite  inapplicable.  The  developing  ovum  of  a  rabbit 
(fide  Brachct)  can  go  on  developing  for  some  time  outside  of 
the  maternal  body, — it  is  a  self-contained  implicit  organism. 
We  do  not  understand  how  it  is  managed,  but  it  has  born 
with  it  the  potentiality  of  the  big  brain  and  the  intricate 
behaviour.  There  is  a  gradual  emergence  of  reflexes,  of 
tropisms,  of  spontaneous  exertions,  of  experiments,  of  learn- 
ing, of  putting  two  and  two  together,  of  clever  behaviour 
and,  in  man,  of  occasional  wisdom.  In  our  own  case  we  are 
sure  that  as  the  minute  structure  of  the  cerebral  cortex  in- 
creases in  complexity,  the  child  becomes  more  intelligent; 
as  the  child  becomes  more  intelligent,  the  cerebral  cortex 
increases  in  complexity,  ^ot  a  single  nerve-cell  is  added 
after  birth,  but  the  inter-relations  between  the  cells  increase 
in  number,  and  the  brain  becomes  a  labyrinth.  There  are 
no  new  nerve-cells,  but  there  is  normally  no  lack  of  new  ideas 
in  the  growing  boy. 

(b)  Our  answer  to  the  body  and  mind  problem  must  be 
consistent  with  what  we  know  of  the  historical  facts.  In 
the  course  of  evolution  the  nervous  system  has  become  grad- 
ually more  complex  and  behaviour  gradually  more  masterly, 
wider  in  range,  more  fertile  in  resource.  We  do  not  wish  to 
make  too  much  of  the  nervous  system,  for  the  method  of 
trial  and  error,  for  instance,  is  practised  by  animals  with 
no  nervous  system  at  all,  and  a  very  dennite  capacity  for 
learning  may  be  exhibited  by  an  animal,  like  a  starfish, 
without  a  single  ganglion  in  its  body.     But  when  we  have 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       233 

made  this  admission  we  must  advance  to  the  other  fact  that 
evolution  of  brains  and  evolution  of  behaviour  have  pro- 
ceeded hand  in  hand,  in  intimate  correlation. 

(c)  The  theory  we  frame  as  to  the  mind  and  body  relation 
must  be  consistent  with  the  fact  of  their  functional  inter- 
dependence. We  express  one  side  of  this  inter-dependence 
when  we  say,  ''  the  spirit  is  willing,  but  the  flesh  is  weak  ", 
which  suggests  the  picture  of  a  worn-out  instrument  unequal 
to  the  player's  demands.  We  express  another  side  of  the 
inter-dependence  when  we  say  of  our  friend  that  ^'  he  died 
in  his  prime,  of  a  broken  heart,  having  lost  interest  in  life  ", 
which  suggests  the  picture  of  a  strong  organisation  or  society 
crumbling  away  because  of  the  resignation  of  one  who  was 
its  heart  and  soul. 

A  large  and  a  complex  brain  among  Vertebrates  is  cor- 
related with  a  dominance  of  intelligent  behaviour.  The 
more  convolutions  the  greater  the  fulness  and  freedom  of 
life.  An  intricate  brain  among  Arthropods  is  correlated 
with  subtlety  of  instinctive  behaviour.  Thus  an  important 
part  of  the  ant's  brain  is  big  in  the  worker,  smaller  in  the 
queen,  and  almost  absent  in  the  drone.  Retardation  or 
warping  of  the  development  of  the  nervous  system  is  as- 
sociated with  enfeeblement  or  disharmony  of  mental  life. 
Fatigue,  or  poisoning,  or  degeneration  of  the  nervous  system 
has  its  mental  correlate.  Injury  to  particular  areas  of  the 
brain  may  bring  about  specific  changes  in  behaviour,  e.g., 
disorders  of  speech.  It  seems,  for  instance,  that  an  area 
at  the  base  of  the  third  convolution  on  the'  left  side  of  the 
brain  is  the  seat  of  the  impressions  and  processes  associated 
with  remembrance  of  the  movements  of  articulation;  that 
an  area  affecting  the  first  and  second  left  temporal  convolu- 
tions is  similarly  associated  with  memory  of  the  sound  of 


234       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

words ;  that  an  area  at  the  posterior  part  of  the  second  pari- 
etal convolution  on  the  left  side  is  similarly  associated  with 
visual  images  of  words  and  letters  (see  Bergson's  Creative 
Evolution). 

The  senescence  of  the  worker  hive-bees  after  their  all  too 
strenuous  short  life  is  correlated  with  observable  fatigue- 
changes  in  their  brains,  and  the  influence  on  the  human 
nervous  system  of  degeneracy  of  the  thyroid  gland  is  cor- 
related with  the  semi-idiocy  of  cretinism.  There  is  no 
question-begging  in  giving  these  illustrations  of  the  way  in 
which  our  mind's  activity  and  development  are  bound  up 
with  the  health  and  development  of  the  body,  for  it  is 
quite  open  to  any  one  to  hold  that  the  brain,  for  instance, 
is  the  instrument  in  and  through  which  the  mind  realises 
its  desires  and  ideals.  "  It  may  be  held  also,"  an  expert 
psychologist  writes,  "  that  the  gradual  failure  of  powers 
with  old  age  or  the  temporary  failure  with  illness  or  fatigue 
— failure  which,  though  primarily  physical,  seems  to  reach 
to  the  very  core  of  the  mind's  being — is  defect  not  of  the 
player,  but  of  the  instrument  on  which  he  plays,  and  through 
which  alone  his  genius  can  find  fitting  expression  "  (J.  L.  Mc- 
Intyre ;  Hastings'  Cyclopoedia,  vol.  x,  p.  778).  Our  pres- 
ent point  is  simply  that,  whatever  be  our  theoretical  inter- 
pretation, it  must  do  justice  to  the  facts  of  correlation.  For 
whatever  theory  we  adopt,  these  facts  remain. 

§  3.     What  Must  Be  Recognised  from  the  Humanist  Side, 

In  pondering  over  the  body  and  mind  problem  we  must 
never  lose  sight  of  the  supreme  reality  of  ^  mind  '.  We  need 
not  dwell  on  the  fact  that  we  do  not  know  anything  of  Na- 
ture save  in  the  selective  mirror  of  our  minds ;  it  is  more 
important  to  insist  on  the  positive  reality  of  the  thought-life. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       235 

the  most  real  fact  in  the  world.  There  must  surely  be  some 
bungling  with  words  when  the  distinguished  physiologist 
Prof.  Jacques  Loeb  speaks  of  our  existence  being  ^'  based 
on  the  play  of  blind  forces  and  only  a  matter  of  chance  ", 
and  of  ourselves  as  ''  only  chemical  mechanisms  ".  Ideas  are 
not  impalpable  will-o'-the-wisps,  they  have  hands  and  feet. 
"  My  mind  to  me  a  Kingdom  is/'  not  a  dispensable  emana- 
tion suspended  tremulously  over  the  physical,  like  the  heat- 
haze  over  the  cornfields.  The  starry  firmament  on  high 
is  scarce  more  awe-inspiring  than  the  spiritual  edifice — 
scientific  and  ethical,  artistic  and  religious — which  man  has 
built  outside  himself.  Neither  in  peace  nor  in  war  can 
we  ignore  the  larger  values  of  the  true,  the  beautiful,  and 
the  good  without  imperilling  body  as  well  as  soul.  What- 
ever theory  we  adopt  about  body  and  mind — monist  or  dual- 
ist, correlationist  or  interactionist,  organicist  or  animist — 
these  facts  remain. 

One  of  Darwin's  services  was  to  show  man's  solidarity 
with  the  rest  of  creation,  his  affiliation  to  a  mammalian 
stock.  That  this  was  a  very  important  contribution  to  human 
thought  is  recognised  almost  unanimously,  and  no  one  any 
longer  dreams  that  the  dignity  or  value  of  a  result  is  affected 
by  the  historical  conditions  of  its  becoming  or  evolution. 
Yet  it  seems  fair  to  point  out  the  risk,  that  focussing  atten- 
tion on  the  rock  whence  Man  was  hewn  and  the  pit  whence 
he  was  digged,  may  lead  to  an  under-estimate  of  the  apart- 
ness and  uniqueness  of  Man  as  compared  with  the  rest  of 
creation.  He  is  separated  off  by  reason  or  the  power  of 
conceptual  inference,  by  morality  or  the  habit  of  control- 
ling his  conduct  in  reference  to  ideals,  by  the  possession  of 
true  language  or  Logos.  Man  was  the  greatest  of  nnitations 
• — a  new  synthesis;  and  it  is  certain  that  in  him  organismal 


236       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

individuality  finds  a  new  and  finer  expression  whicli  we 
call  Personality. 

§  4.    Varioics  Theories  of  the  Relation  of  '  Mind '  and '  Body  \ 

To  the  question  how  we  are  to  think  of  our  thought-life 
and  our  brain-life  in  relation  to  one  another  at  least  seven 
answers  have  been  given,  but  we  need  not  give  all  of  them 
the  same  amount  of  attention.  Two  of  them  fall  if  we 
conclude,  as  we  have  done,  that  mechanistic  formulation 
does  not  give  an  adequate  account  of  the  world  of  organisms. 
These  two  are  (I)  thoroughgoing  materialism,  and  its  modern 
representative,  (II)  epiphenomenalism.  (I)  According  to 
thoroughgoing  materialism,  mind  is  fictitious  and  the  only 
realities  are  matter  and  motion.  Sensation,  according  to 
Hobbes,  is  nothing  but  motion;  and  the  brain,  according 
to  Cabanis,  secretes  thought  as  the  liver  secretes  bile.  To 
this  it  may  suffice  to  answer  that  the  mechanical  theory  of 
organisms  breaks  down;  that  we  cannot  satisfactorily  ex- 
plain our  thinking  in  terms  of  laws  of  matter  and  motion 
which  are  the  results  of  our  thinking;  and  that  we  cannot 
think  clearly  to  ourselves  the  proposition  that  mind  is  a 
function  of  the  brain,  or  that  the  motion  of  particles  produces 
the  emotion  of  joy. 

(II)  x\ccording  to  Huxley's  epiphenomenalism,  the 
stream  of  consciousness  is  like  the  chain  of  foam-bells  on 
the  river,  called  into  existence  by  the  real  physico-chemical 
processes  in  the  brain,  and  ceasing  as  these  cease.  The  real 
causal  sequence  is  to  be  found  in  the  neuroses  which  are 
assumed  to  admit  of  mechanical  formulation ;  the  sequence 
of  psychoses  is  due  to  that  of  the  neuroses,  for  the  elements 
of  consciousness  have  no  influence  either  on  one  another  or 
on  the  activities  of  the  creature.     The  psychoses  are  the 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       237 

shadows  cast  by  the  vanes  of  the  cerebral  windmill,  or  the 
creakings  of  the  machinery,  or  at  the  best  the  electrical 
sparks  which  accompany  the  friction.  There  may  seem  to 
be  two  watches,  but  only  one  is  going  (the  brain)  ;  when 
the  going  watch  ticks  there  is  an  echoing  tick  in  the  other; 
nay  more,  by  induction  the  going  watch  may  cause  move- 
ments of  the  hands  of  the  watch  which  only  seems  to  go. 
Perhaps  the  most  generous  image  is,  that  the  elements  of 
consciousness  are  the  short-lived  foam-bells  on  the  wonderful 
current  of  cerebral  processes. 

We  cannot  accept  this  view  because  it  is  wrapped  up  with 
ihe  mechanistic  hypothesis,  because  it  hands  over  the  reins 
of  life  to  matter  and  motion,  because  *it  denudes  the  thoudit- 
life  of  all  reality.  When  biologists  become  preoccupied 
with  the  psychical  concomitants  of  blots  in  the  brain,  or 
with  the  localisation  of  particular  mental  functions  in  partic- 
ular areas  in  the  cerebral  cortex,  they  are  apt  to  lean  towards 
epiphenomenalism,  but  this  has  to  be  corrected  by  trying 
to  see  life  whole. 

The  epiphenomenalist  theory  (which  regards  mentality  as 
a  negligible  phosphorescence  of  life)  is  to  be  rejected  on 
common-sense  grounds  because  we  are  sure  that  in  human 
life  consciousness  and  awareness  of  meaning  count  for  much. 
It  is  rejected  by  most  biologists  because  they  cannot  evade 
the  conviction,  we  can  hardly  say  conclusion,  that  mentality 
is  pervasive  throughout  all  creatures  that  exhibit  genuine 
behaviour,  associative  memory,  and  profiting  by  experience; 
and  because  they  find  it  difficult  to  believe  in  the  elabora- 
tion and  persistence  of  what  is,  on  the  epiphenomenalist 
theory,  a  useless  by-play,  counting  for  nought.  And  if  it  be 
asserted  that  the  persistence  and  evolutionary  elaboration 
may  be  accounted  for  because  consciousness  is  the  inevitable 


238       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

by-product  of  the  all-important  inter-relations  of  nerve-cells, 
then  we  have  slipped  back  again  into  the  slough  of  material- 
ism. And  it  does  not  seem  unfair  to  put  to  those  v^ho  say 
that  thinking  is  only  the  phosphorescence  of  an  exuberant 
cerebral  metabolism,  the  question,  "  What,  then,  must  the 
theory  of  epiphenomenalism  be  held  to  be?  A  will-o'-the- 
wisp  looking  at  itself  ?  '' 

Against  the  theory  that  the  mind  does  not  count  let  us 
note  the  opinion  of  Professor  Sherrington,  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  investigators  of  the  nervous  system.  In  his 
important  book  The  hitegrative  Action  of  the  Nervous 
System,  he  says :  ^'  The  concomitance  between  certain 
nervous  reactions  and  psychosis  seems  an  alliance  that 
strengthens  the  restless  striving  of  the  individual  animal 
which  is  the  passport  of  its  species  to  continuance  of  exist- 
ence "  (p.  333).  .  .  .  "Certain  it  is  that  if  we  study 
the  process  by  which  in  ourselves  this  control  over  reflex 
action  is  acquired  by  an  individual,  psychical  factors  loom 
large,  and  more  is  known  of  them  than  of  the  purely  physi- 
ological modus  operandi  involved  in  the  attainment  of  the 
control"  (p.  390). 

Only  in  the  analytic  laboratory  or  systematic  museum 
can  we  rest  satisfied  with  a  view  of  Animate  Nature  which 
maintains  that  mind  does  not  count.  By  sympathy  if  not 
by  science  we  are  sure  that  to  leave  mind  out  is  a  travesty 
of  the  facts.  Especially  in  its  higher  reaches,  life  is  suifused 
with  feeling  and  meaning. 

In  his  Birds  and  Man  Mr.  Hudson  tells  of  what  his 
brother  once  saw  on  a  lonely  sheep-farm  on  the  southern 
frontier  of  Buenos  Ayres.  "  Immense  numbers  of  upland 
geese  in  great  flocks  used  to  spend  the  cold  months  on  the 
plains  where  he  had  his  lonely  hut;  and  one  morning  in 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       239 

August  in  the  early  spring  of  that  southern  country,  some 
days  after  all  the  flocks  had  taken  their  departure  to  the 
south,  he  was  out  riding,  and  saw  at  a  distance  before  him 
on  the  plain  a  pair  of  geese.  They  were  male  and  female 
— a  white  and  a  brown  bird.  Their  movements  attracted 
his  attention  and  he  rode  to  them.  The  female  was  walking 
steadily  on  in  a  southerly  direction,  while  the  male,  greatly 
excited,  and  calling  loudly  from  time  to  time,  walked  at 
a  distance  ahead,  and  constantly  turned  back  to  see  and 
call  to  his  mate,  and  at  intervals  of  a  few  minutes  he  would 
rise  up  and  fly,  screaming,  to  a  distance  of  some  hundreds 
of  yards ;  then  finding  that  he  had  not  been  followed  he  would 
return  and  alight  at  a  distance  of  forty  or  fifty  yards  in 
advance  of  the  other  bird,  and  begin  walking  on  as  before. 
The  female  had  one  wing  broken,  and,  unable  to  fly,  had  set 
out  on  her  long  journey  to  the  Magellanic  Islands  on  her 
feet;  and  her  mate,  though  called  to  by  that  mysterious 
imperative  voice  in  his  breast,  yet  would  not  forsake  her; 
but  flying  a  little  distance  to  show  her  the  way,  and  return- 
ing again  and  again,  and  calling  to  her  with  his  wildest 
and  most  piercing  cries,  urged  her  still  to  spread  her  wings 
and  fly  with  him  to  their  distant  home. 

'^  And  on  that  sad,  anxious  way  they  would  journey  on 
to  the  inevitable  end,  when  a  pair  or  family  of  carrion 
eagles  would  spy  them  from  a  great  distance — the  two 
travellers  left  far  behind  by  their  fellows,  one  flying,  the 
other  walking;  and  the  first  would  be  left  to  continue  the 
journey  alone"  (Birds  and  Man.  2nd  Ed.,  1915,  p.  214). 
The  realm  of  animal  life  is  crowded  with  this  sort  of  thing. 

(Ill)  Also  to  be  rejected  is  subjective  idealism,  which 
is  the  extreme  antithesis  of  opiphonomenalism,  and  finds 
nothing  real  but  the  routine  of  personal  conscious  experience. 


240       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

This  amounts  to  a  denial  of  the  existence  of  the  physical 
world  and  of  the  possibility  of  science;  it  is  the  non-pos- 
sumus  of  solipsism. 

(IV)  A  fourth  view — common  as  a  working-hypothesis 
at  least — goes  by  the  name  of  psycho-physical  parallelism. 
It  admits  the  reality  of  both  mental  and  cerebral  processes, 
but  regards  them  as  concomitants  merely,  without  inter- 
action, two  parallel  causal  chains,  each  complete  in  itself. 
"We  may  think  of  two  watches  tied  together,  keeping  perfect 
time,  but  constructed  on  different  principles  and  using  dif- 
ferent notations.  This  view  was  subjected  to  what  seems 
to  us  destructive  criticism  in  Professor  Ward's  first  course  of 
Gifford  Lectures  on  "  !N"aturalism  and  Agnosticism " ;  but 
it  is  still  held  by  some  psychologists  of  distinction,  either 
simply  as  a  convenient  way  of  formulating  the  facts,  or 
with  a  metaphysical  theory  behind  it — namely,  an  idealistic 
view  of  material  phenomena. 

Besides  psycho-physical  parallelism  there  are  in  the  field 
three  possible  theories.  One  is  much  favoured  by  philoso- 
phers—  (V)  the  theory  of  psychical  monism.  Another  view, 
(VI)  the  soul-theory  or  animism,  does  not  seem  to  be  fa- 
voured by  many  philosophers  or  by  many  scientific  investiga- 
tors, but  may  be  true  for  all  that.  The  remaining  theory, 
much  favoured  by  biologists,  is  (VII)  the  two-aspect  or  iden- 
tity hypothesis.  It  seems  to  us  that  each  of  these  theories  has 
its  particular  advantages  and  its  particular  difficulties,  and 
that  a  decision  must  at  present  be  left  with  the  individual 
according  to  his  personal  experience.  In  our  judgment  the 
biological  facts  mostly  favour  the  two-aspect  theory,  but  we 
have  no  assurance  that  it  is  the  most  valid. 

(V)  Psychical  Monism,  According  to  the  doctrine  of 
psychi^jal  monism,  conscious  process  is  the  only  reality,  and 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       241 

though  what  we  call  physical  objects  and  physical  processes 
are  also  real,  they  owe  their  reality  to  being  conscious 
processes  or  activities  in  disguise.  We  can  formulate  physi- 
cal processes  as  if  they  consisted  of  the  movements  of  bodies, 
but  our  formulation  is  purely  symbolic.  There  are  no 
things  that  move,  nor  things  that  have  potential  energy, 
there  are  no  individualities  outside  the  conscious  stream. 
Things  vanish  away;  things  in  themselves  are  regarded  as 
mental  in  their  nature.  Needless  to  say,  students  of  science 
are  rarely  attracted  to  this  view.  But  it  is  to  be  suspected 
that  the  provocation  to  antipathy  is  in  part  due  to  confusing 
metaphysical  and  scientific  language. 

(VI)  Animism.  Of  all  the  theories  of  the  psycho-phys- 
ical relation  the  oldest  and  perhaps  the  most  attractive  is 
animism,  the  soul-theory.  In  its  clearest  form  it  maintains 
the  actuality  of  the  soul  as  an  embodied  psychical  being, 
which  realises  itself  in  interaction  with  the  bodily  organism. 
The  soul  is,  apart  from  the  bodily  organisation,  the  ground 
of  the  unity  of  consciousness;  it  makes  sensation,  meaning, 
endeavour,  and  guidance  possible.  Its  relation  with  the 
body  is  reciprocal,  for  while  it  controls  the  body,  the  bodily 
processes  supply  to  it  the  content  of  consciousness.  Inter- 
acting with  the  body,  it  develops  into  the  centre  of  personal- 
ity. It  may  conceivably  attain  to  an  existence  independent 
of  the  life  of  its  partner. 

On  Bergson's  view,  the  brain  is  the  medium  between 
consciousness  and  the  external  conditions  of  life ;  it  is  "  the 
organ  of  attention  to  life  ",  keeping  the  mind  in  contact  with 
reality.  But  thought,  he  maintains,  is  in  great  part  in- 
dependent of  the  brain,  and  "  there  is  infinitely  more  in 
a  human  consciousness  than  in  the  corresponding  brain  ". 
If  the  mental  life  thus  transcends  the  cerebral  life,  if  the 


242       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

brain  serves  simply  to  translate  a  small  part  of  what  goes 
on  in  mind,  then  personality  is  not  permanently  tethered 
to  protoplasm. 

The  animist  need  not  occupy  the  extreme  position  that 
the  body  is  but  an  instrument  on  which  the  mind  plays. 
Wiser  and  truer  is  the  view  that  through  the  body  the  mind 
is  educated,  disciplined,  and  enriched.  As  Aliotta  puts  it, 
^'  The  body  is  not  something  with  which  the  mind  can  dis- 
pense, it  is  not  the  forbidding  prison  which  the  Platonists 
depicted  in  such  gloomy  colours,  it  is  no  torture-chamber  in 
which  mind  is  doomed  to  expiate  some  mysterious  crime, 
but  rather  the  fertile  soil  in  which  alone  the  plant  of  spirit- 
uality can  develop  and  blossom." 

Among  the  advantages  of  animism  we  recognise  (1)  its 
emphasis  on  tlie  supremacy  and  efficiency  of  what  we  call 
mind  or  spirit;  (2)  that  it  nevertheless  faces  the  fundamen- 
tal and  all-pervading  fact  of  body;  (3)  that  its  idea  of  inter- 
action or  reciprocal  influence,  though  perhaps  inconceivable, 
is  a  good  working  hypothesis,  fitting  many  familiar  facts; 
and  (4)  that  it  is  congruent  with  that  attractive  and  opti- 
mistic view  of  the  world  which  assures  us  of  the  conserva- 
tion of  values.  A  spirited  and  scholarly  defence  of  Animism 
has  been  furnished  by  Dr.  W.  MacDougall  in  his  book  on 
Body  and  Mind. 

Difficulties  in  the  Way  of  Animism.  All  the  statements 
that  have  been  proposed  of  the  body  and  mind  puzzle  have 
their  particular  difficulties,  and  they  are  not  awanting  in 
the  case  of  animism. 

{a)  The  whole  trend  of  science  is  to  emphasise  the  influ- 
ence of  the  bodily  life  on  the  thought-life,  and  although  we 
are  told  that  this  only  means  that  the  soul  cannot  realise 
itself  except  in  co-operating  with  its  partner  the  body,  we 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       243 

are  haunted  by  the  knowledge  that  particular  defects  iu  the 
instrument  are  terribly  perturbing  to  the  player. 

(h)  The  experiences  of  mathematicians  and  other  thinkers 
at  a  high  level  lead  us  to  attach  considerable  iniportauce  to 
unconscious  cerebration,  to  actual  achievements  on  the  part 
of  the  personality  when  the  partner  whose  task  is  with  think- 
ing appears  to  be  in  abeyance. 

(c)  The  characteristic  feature  of  the  animalistic  theory  is 
the  idea  of  interaction,  and  this  raises  several  serious  diffi- 
culties. Eor  how  can  the  mind  act  on  metabolism  or  metab- 
olism on  the  mind  ?  How  can  there  be  interaction  between 
two  disparate  series  ?  As  Professor  Stout  (Manual  of  Psy- 
chology, Chap.  III.)  puts  it,  "  When  we  come  to  the  direct 
connection  between  a  nervous  process,  and  a  correlated  con- 
scious process,  we  find  a  complete  solution  of  continuity. 
The  two  processes  have  no  common  factor.  Their  connection 
lies  entirely  outside  of  our  total  knowledge  of  physical  na- 
ture on  the  one  hand,  and  of  conscious  process  on  the  other.'* 
It  has  been  answered  that  the  force  of  this  difficulty  is  in 
the  assumption  that  the  two  series  are  absolutely  disparate, 
an  assumption  which  the  undeniable  correspondence  between 
the  two  series  disproves.  To  positive  vitalists  there  is  no 
particular  difficulty,  for  the  non-material  psychoid  or  entele- 
chy  which  directs  brain-processes  will  be  readily  susceptible 
to  the  influence  of  the  mind;  but  this  is  a  purely  verbal 
relief,  since  it  leaves  us  in  face  of  the  difficulty  of  the  psy- 
choid's or  entelechy's  capacity  of  acting  on  metabolism.  We 
have  admitted  the  difficulty  of  explaining  what  is  meant  by 
the  "  two-aspect  theory  "  or  "  the  double-faced  unity  ",  but 
we  are  not  sure  that  the  idea  of  interaction  is  any  more 
intelligible.  We  suggest,  however,  to  those  wliu  uphold  the 
idea,  that  the  difficulty  will  appear  less  if  it  be  recognised 


24i4       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

that  the  vital  activities  of  the  organism,  considered  apart 
from  its  psychical  activities,  are  not  susceptible  of  satisfac- 
tory mechanical  description.  When  we  have  abandoned  a 
mechanistic  view  of  the  organism,  we  have  made  a  step  of 
importance  towards  understanding  what  Professor  Ward  calls 
the  internal  or  inter-subjective  relation  that  the  subject  bears 
to  its  organism. 

It  is  often  said  that  animism  involves  a  breach  with  the 
principle  of  the  conservation  of  energy.  If  mind  really 
counts,  it  is  argued,  work  is  done  which  the  antecedent 
energy-conditions  do  not  fully  account  for.  If  the  mind  acts 
on  the  brain  in  a  way  that  tells,  then  some  energy  disappears 
from  the  books,  for  the  mind  is  outside  the  sphere  of  energy- 
transformations.  But  to  suppose  that  the  mind  acts  on  the 
material  system  without  expending  energy  is,  the  critics  of 
animism  continue,  to  forsake  scientific  procedure,  for  the 
law  of  the  conservation  of  energy  cannot  be  broken. 

Now  we  are  not  concerned  in  the  defence  of  animism, 
but  this  criticism  is  not  one  that  commends  itself  to  us. 
The  doctrine  of  the  conservation  of  energy  includes  two 
propositions.  In  the  first  place,  it  suggests  that  the  total 
amount  of  energy  in  the  universe  is  a  constant,  but  this  is 
rather  a  pious  opinion  than  an  established  fact.  The  less 
we  say  regarding  the  universality  of  the  conservation  of 
energy  the  better,  for  we  do  not  know.  But  in  the  second 
place  it  is  a  regulative  principle,  based  on  experimental 
evidence,  which  states  that  in  any  closed  physical  system 
at  work  the  energy  expended  in  one  way  must  be  gained  in 
another.  The  organism  and  its  environment  are  comparable 
to  the  change-office  outside  an  exhibition ;  there  are  ceaseless 
transformations,  but  the  amount  of  cash  is  not  only  the  same 
in  the  evening  as  in  the  morning,  it  is  the  same  all  through 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       245 

the  day.  The  question  is  whether,  with  this  regulative 
principle  in  view,  we  can  think  of  mind  acting  on  body  or 
of  body  acting  on  mind  ? 

Various  answers  have  been  given,  and  we  shall  take  the 
worst  first.  (1)  It  has  been  suggested  that  some  physical 
energy  may  rise  into  mental  energy  and  some  mental  energy 
may  sink  into  physical  energy.  But  mental  energy  is  a 
mere  metaphor.  On  this  theory  it  is  supposed  that,  if  the 
physical  energy  is  locally  augmented  by  the  influence  of 
mind,  e.g.,  of  a  strong  will,  a  corresponding  amount  of  phys- 
ical energy  in  another  part  of  the  system  disappears,  say 
in  engendering  a  feeling  of  self-approbation.  When  the 
resources  of  the  change-office  till  are  augmented  by  a  remark- 
able operation  in  receiving  cash  they  are  automatically  re- 
duced to  a  corresponding  amount  by  a  remarkable  operation 
in  disbursing  the  same.  This  seems  more  like  art  than 
science  and  the  preservation  of  the  balance  savours  of  the 
miraculous. 

(2)  We  have  already  referred  to  Professor  Poynting's  sug- 
gestion that  the  will  may  act  as  a  guiding  power  changing 
the  direction  of  motion  of  the  atoms  and  molecules  of  the 
brain,  and  that  the  amount  of  energy  will  not  be  changed, 
since  a  deflecting  force  does  no  work.  ^^  But  the  interposi- 
tion of  the  guiding  power  does  affect  the  transformation  of 
energy;  instead  of  the  clash  which  the  physicist  would  fore- 
tell there  would  be  a  new  configuration  as  the  molecules 
glided  past  each  other  in  their  new  directions."  This  is  an 
interesting  position,  but  the  difficulty  of  thinking  of  mind 
shunting  material  particles  is  surely  hardly  less  than  the  dif- 
ficulty of  materialism  that  brain-motion  causes  consciousness. 
It  is  almost  certain  that  this  attempt  to  square  animism 
and  the  doctrine  of  the  conservation  of  energy  is  on  quite 


246       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

the  wrong  line,  for  it  pictures  the  mind  acting  mechanically 
on  matter  in  motion.  But  if  the  mind  can  thus  determine 
the  direction  of  physical  processes,  say  in  the  brain,  the 
disparateness  of  mind  and  body  is  surely  given  up.  Even 
Lotze  spoke  of  ^^  elements  of  mental  life,  intervening  between 
the  operation  of  the  corporeal  organs,  and  filling  gaps  be- 
tween the  single  links  of  the  chain  of  vital  processes  ",  but 
can  we  think  of  mind  producing  an  impact  or  causing  mo- 
tion ?  What  we  call  mind  bulks  largely  in  Animate  Nature, 
but  surely  whatever  be  its  mode  of  operation  it  is  not  that 
of  a  shunter.  W.  K.  Clifford  compared  the  belief  in  this 
kind  of  psychical  influence  upon  material  things  to  the 
belief  that  the  wagons  of  a  railway  train  are  held  together 
by  the  friendly  feeling  of  the  engine-driver  for  the  guard. 

(3)  The  animist  is  probably  on  firmer  ground  when  he 
simply  refuses  to  be  tyrannised  over  by  the  principle  of  the 
conservation  of  energy.  That  principle  was  established  in 
reference  to  inorganic  systems  which  can  be  adequately 
summed  up  in  dynamical  terms,  belonging  to  a  domain  with- 
out spontaneity  or  alternatives  or  endeavour.  We  need  not 
allow  a  law  of  our  own  making  to  dogmatise  as  to  what  is 
possible  or  impossible  in  systems  run  on  different  lines. 
No  doubt  the  life  of  the  organism  conforms  on  the  whole 
to  the  principle  of  the  conserv^ation  of  energy,  as  calorimeter 
experiments  prove;  perhaps  it  corresponds  absolutely;  but 
what  we  are  concerned  to  maintain  is,  that  there  is  no  reason 
grounded  in  the  constitution  of  nature  why  a  living  material 
system  should  entirely  correspond  as  regards  energetics  to  a 
non-living  material  system. 

•  In  this  connection  it  should  also  be  noticed  that  just  as 
a  spark  may  cause  an  explosion,  and  cutting  a  tape  may 
launch  a  liner,   an  emotion  may  intervene  to  considerable 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       247 

purpose  in  bodily  affairs  without  it  being  possible  to  prove 
by  calorimetric  methods  whether  its  interaction  is  accom- 
panied by  expenditure  of  energy  or  not. 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  the  view  of  the  soul  as  some- 
thing extended  in  space  is  not  the  genuine  animism,  no 
matter  how  subtle  that  '  something '  may  be.  Mr.  Nor- 
man Pearson  (1916)  works  with  a  soul  which  ''  has  no  re- 
semblance to  the  ponderable  matter  of  our  senses  .  .  . 
is  finer  even  than  the  imponderable  ether  of  our  inference 
.  .  .  is,  in  fact,  the  nearest  conceivable  approach  to 
spirit."  This  may  be  a  legitimate  hypothesis,  for  one  can- 
not dogmatically  assert  that  the  extended  in  space  is  ex- 
hausted by  ordinary  physical  methods,  but  it  is  not  pure 
animism. 

(VII)  The  Two- Aspect  Theory.  There  remains  a  view 
to  which  biological  facts  incline  us,  '  the  two-aspect  theory  ', 
or  the  ^  Identity  Hypothesis  ',  or  the  ^  correlation  theory  '. 
We  think  of  the  organism  as  one,  as,  while  it  lives,  an  in- 
dissoluble psycho-physical  being.  The  mind  and  the  body 
are  both  abstractions,  very  convenient  for  purposes  of  dis- 
course; there  is  but  one  reality,  the  life  of  the  organism, 
which  has  a  subjective  aspect  known  as  psychosis  and  an 
objective  aspect  known  as  neurosis.  The  living  creature 
gives  an  account  of  itself  in  two  ways.  It  can  know  itself 
as  something  extended  and  intricately  built  up,  burning 
away,  moving,  throbbing;  it  can  also  know  itself  as  the  seat 
of  sensations,  perceptions,  feelings,  wishes,  thoughts.  But 
there  is  not  one  process,  thinking,  and  another  process,  cere- 
bral metabolism;  there  is  a  psycho-physical  life — a  reality 
which  we  know  under  two  aspects.  This  view  may  be  as- 
sociated with  the  names  of  Aristotle,  Spinoza,  Fecbner,  El> 
binghaus,    Lloyd    Morgan.      Cerebral    control    and    mental 


248       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

activity  are,  on  this  view,  different  aspects  of  one  natural 
occurrence.  What  v^e  have  to  do  with  is  the  unified  life 
of  a  psycho-physical  being,  a  body-mind  or  mind-body. 

The  advantages  of  the  two-aspect  theory,  if  it  is  tenable, 
are  (1)  that  it  does  justice  to  the  extraordinarily  intimate 
inter-dependence  of  what  we  call  '  mental  processes '  and 
^  brain-processes '.  It  regards  them  as  two  equally  real 
aspects  of  the  continuous  life  of  the  organism.  There  is 
not  merely  a  material  watch  with  a  ticking  which  we  call 
consciousness;  there  is  not  merely  a  thought-life  with  an 
illusion  of  associated  things ;  there  are  not  two  watches 
which  keep  time  without  interacting,  nor  yet  two  watches 
which  interact;  there  is  one  watch  with  two  sides,  which 
we  call  objective  and  subjective.  The  objective  side  is  the 
body  as  a  living  whole;  the  subjective  side  in  Man's  case 
is  the  unity  of  mind.  (2)  The  psycho-physical  being  is  one, 
but  its  two  aspects  are  not  always  equally  clear  to  us.  In 
thinking  out  a  mathematical  problem  we  may  be  quite  un- 
aware of  anything  but  our  thought-experiments,  yet  the 
evidence  points  to  the  possibility  of  these  being  continued 
by  us  (by  the  organism)  without  any  conscious  endeavour. 
In  the  application  of  an  ansesthetic,  one  level  after  another 
of  the  conscious  life  is  obliterated  in  precise  relation  to  the 
degree  of  chloroforming,  till  by  and  by  complete  uncon- 
sciousness may  result.  It  looks  as  if  the  uninterrupted 
life  of  the  instrument  kept  the  player  in  being,  it  looks  as 
if  the  life  were  one.  (3)  It  is  extremely  difficult  to  think 
of  the  mind  in  the  ante-natal  period;  it  is  less  difficult  to 
think  of  a  psycho-physical  being,  in  whose  one-cell  phase 
the  psychical  aspect  is  as  non-explicit  as  it  is  in  the  adult 
life  during  deep  anaesthesia.  (4)  It  is  easier  to  think  of 
evolution   on   this  double-aspect   view,   for   what  has   come 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       249 

about  has  always  been  simultaneous  progress  in  the  expres- 
sion of  both  aspects — more  intricate  bodies  with  their 
counterpart  in  subtler  behaviour,  a  growing  mentality  and 
its  counterpart  in  a  more  complex  brain-life. 

Objections  to  the  Two-Aspect  Theory.     (1)  It  has  been  ob- 
jected that  the  phrase  '^  two  aspects  of  the  same  process  "  is 
unmeaning  when  forced  upon  the  psycho-physical  relation, 
where  we  have  to  deal  with  sequences  of  radically  different 
orders,  "  apprehended  in  two  radically  different  ways,  the 
one  by  sense-perception,  the  other  by  reflective  introspection  ". 
Pechner  spoke  of  the  view  of  a  sphere  from  the  inside  and 
from  the  outside  being  two  aspects  of  the  same  thing,  but 
in  that  case  the  one  gives  us  the  other,  whereas  we  cannot 
in  the  least  degree  deduce  the  nature  of  the  psychical  from 
an  observation  of  the  physical,  or  gontrariwise.     But  this 
objection  states  a  false  case,  for  the  postulate  of  the  identity 
hypotheses  is  that  there  never  are  two  events,  but  always 
only  one.     We  must  not  think  of  two  disparate  series,  one 
teleological,  implying  a  purposive  selective  unity,  and  the 
other  mechanical,   due   to  the  refined   and   complicated   or- 
ganisation of  the  nervous   system;   we  must  think   of  one 
series   fundamentally  purposive   and   in   its   higher   reaches 
consciously    purposeful.     As    Bain    put    it,    '^  The    line    of 
causal  sequence  is  not  mind  causing  body,  and  body  causing 
mind,  but  mind-body  giving  birth  to  mind-body."     From  a 
very  different  starting-point  Samuel  Butler  said  almost  the 
same  thing:      ^^  The   idea  of  a   soul,   or  of  that   unknown 
something  for  which  the  word  '  soul '  is  our  hieroglyphic, 
and  the  idea  of  living  organism  unite  so  spontaneously,  and 
stick  together  so  inseparably,  that  no  matter  how  often  we 
sunder  them  they  will  elude  our  vigilance  and  come  together, 
like  true  lovers,  in  spite  of  us." 


250       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

(2)  It  is  also  objected  to  the  identity  hypothesis  that 
there  is  lacking,  except  in  the  case  of  the  introspecting  psy- 
chologist, any  observer  occupying  the  inner-standpoint. 
But  it  is  not  in  the  least  necessary  to  the  theory  that  there 
should  be  any  continuous  observation  of  the  subjective  as- 
pect. In  ordinary  daily  life  there  is  introspection  only  at 
intervals,  when  this  miraculous  power  of  self-awareness  has 
a  definite  role  to  play.  In  animal  life  there  is,  of  course, 
no  demonstrable  self-consciousness,  but  there  is  a  mental  life 
which  cannot  be  interpreted  in  terms  of  the  abstractions  of 
the  physiology  of  the  nervous  system.  According  to  the 
identity  hypothesis  this  mental  life  is  one  aspect,  hypotheti- 
cally  imagined  by  us,  of  the  very  highest  reach  of  the 
organism's  activity. 

(3)  It  is  objected  that  the  two-aspect  theory  simply  in- 
vents and  glorifies  an  X,  an  unknown  and  unknowable  en- 
tity. To  make  clearer  what  we  do  in  some  measure  know, 
it  postulates  an  indefinable  reality  of  which  we  can  know 
nothing.  ^^  The  one  substance,"  says  Professor  Stumpf, 
"  which  is  supposed  to  manifest  itself  in  the  two  attributes, 
the  physical  and  the  psychical,  is  nothing  but  a  word  which 
expresses  the  desire  to  escape  from  dualism,  but  "which  does 
not  really  bridge  the  gulf  for  our  understanding."  But 
the  charge  "  nothing  but  a  word  "  is  readily  made  and  as 
readily  recoils.  The  identity  hypothesis  does  not  pretend 
that  we  know  anything  like  all  about  that  fraction  of  reality 
which  we  call  a  living  creature,  nor  that  we  can  explain 
its  having  two  aspects.  It  maintains,  however,  that  we  know 
this  about  organisms,  that  they  are  agents  that  do  things, 
unique  individualities  that  express  themselves  in  endeavour, 
psycho-physical  beings  that  bum  away  and  yet  remember, 
that  ripen  and  rot  and  yet  work  towards  ends  which  transcend 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       251 

themselves.  What  the  '  identity  hypothesis  '  or  correlation 
theory  postulates  is  not  an  unknown  X,  but  an  imperfectly 
known  organism,  whose  pre-awareness  of  meaning  is  as  real 
as  its  flesh-and-blood  metabolism,  yet  inseparable  from  it. 

(4)  Another  objection  to  the  '  double-aspect '  interpreta- 
tion is  that  we  know  ourselves  as  self-determining — for  no 
one  can  get  away  from  an  immediate  awareness  of  his  per- 
sonal agency — whereas  the  organism  is  determined  from 
without,  being  part  of  the  mechanical  system  of  things.  Can 
the  same  reality  be  determined  from  without  and  self-de- 
termining? But  the  objection  must  be  disallowed,  first  be- 
cause the  organism  has  spontaneity,  from  the  Amoeba  up- 
wards, and  is  certainly  not  wholly  determined  from  without ; 
and,  second,  because  when  we  examine  ourselves  carefully 
we  find  that  our  mental  life  is  not  wholly  self-determined. 
It  is  an  unnecessary  difficulty  to  say  that  one  aspect  is 
teleological  and  the  other  mechanical ;  for  we  have  given 
good  reasons  for  believing  that  the  organism  is  more  than 
mechanical.  ^  Body  '  and  ^  mind  '  are  both  of  the  teleological 
or  purposive  type,  for  that  is  the  nature  of  the  creature  from 
first  to  last. 

§  5.     Monistic  Speculation  along  the  Line  of  the  Double- 
Aspect  or  Correlation  Theory. 

On  the  Double-Aspect  or  Identity  Hypothesis  all  animals 
are  psycho-physical  beings,  and  this  is  borne  out  by  what  is 
known  of  the  behaviour  of  the  very  simplest,  for  we  see 
Amoebae  going  ahunting  and  Eoraminifera  working  like 
selective  artificers.  But  what  of  the  plant  world  ?  Logically, 
we  can  make  no  halt,  and  there  are  curious  phenomena  which 
approach  behaviour  in  carnivorous  plants  and  climbing 
plants.     In  some  cases,  there  is  what  looks  like  memory. 


252       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

But  the  continuity  argument  presses  us  further.  Since  it 
seems  very  likely  that  organisms  arose  upon  this  earth  from 
not-living  materials,  in  a  manner  at  present  obscure,  are  we 
to  suppose  that  consciousness  somehow  entered  ah  extra  into 
the  early  organisms  when  they  were  as  yet  only  beginning; 
or  that  it  was  interpolated  later  when  they  attained  to  some 
degree  of  complexity;  or  that  the  analogue  of  consciousness, 
which  some  have  called  infra-consciousness,  was  present  even 
in  the  domain  of  the  inorganic  ?  The  desire  for  continuity 
impels  us  to  the  speculation  that  even  the  inorganic  raw 
materials  were  psycho-physical.  For  in  no  case  can  we 
think  of  consciousness  arising  out  of  motion,  any  more  than 
we  can  think  of  atoms  uniting  for  love. 

There  has  been  great  progress  in  the  course  of  evolution, 
but  on  the  identity  hypothesis  we  think  rather  of  potencies 
being  raised  to  higher  powers  than  of  the  interpolation  of 
new  faculties.  Instead  of  insinuating  a  principle  of  life 
ah  extra  when  a  suitable  mixture  of  proteins  had  been  some- 
how synthesised,  we  suppose  that  a  synthetic  advance  of 
materials,  which  were  ever  more  than  motions,  made  be- 
haviour possible.  Instead  of  insinuating  mind  ah  extra 
when  the  organism  became  complex  enough,  we  suppose  that 
the  progressive  differentiation  and  integration  of  what  was 
from  the  outset  a  psycho-physical  being,  by  and  by  disclosed 
another  aspect  of  its  inherent  reality,  and  experimenting 
with  ideas  became  possible.  And  similarly  with  man's 
rational  discourse  and  with  the  amazing  phenomena  of 
human  society. 

Biological  monism  has  been  characterised  as  a  relapse  to 
the  old  and  crude  metaphysics  of  hylozoism.  Perhaps  it  is 
nearer  the  hylopsychism  of  some  of  the  New  Eealists.  "  By 
hylopsychism    I    mean   the    theory    that — The   potentiality 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       253 

of  the  physical  is  the  actuality  of  the  psychical  and  the 
potentiality  of  the  psychical  is  the  actwality  of  the  physical. 
Or,  to  put  it  in  the  form  of  a  definition  of  consciousness: 
Consciousness  is  the  potential  or  implicative  presence  of  a 
thing  at  a  space  or  time  in  which  that  thing  is  not  actually 
present  ..."  (W.  P.  Montague,  p.  281).  "■  By  hylopsjchism 
I  wish  to  denote  the  theory  that  all  matter  is  instinct  with 
something  of  the  cognitive  function ;  that  every  objective 
event  has  that  self-transcending  implication  of  other  events 
which  when  it  occurs  on  the  scale  that  it  does  in  our  brain 
processes  we  call  consciousness"  (p.  283). 

Is  there  any  difference  between  this  and  the  monistic  spec- 
ulation of  Prof.  Lloyd  Morgan  ?  "  Of  simple  awareness 
there  can  be  no  evidence  by  acquaintance,  save  in  being  aware. 
And  since  we  cannot  be  an  Amoeba  or  an  isolated  neurone, 
an  oak  or  an  acorn,  an  attracting  magnet  or  a  shred  of  iron 
attracted  thereto,  we  can  never  directly  know  whether  in 
them  some  dim  awareness  is  present  or  absent.  None  the 
less  we  may  be  permitted  to  suppose  that  awareness,  as  a 
specific  mode  of  relation  between  terms,  is  ubiquitous 
throughout  nature — basing  this  supposal  on  the  principle 
of  continuity.  If  here  in  us  in  high  measure,  then  in  the 
oak  and  the  acorn,  in  the  molecule  and  the  atom,  in  their 
several  measures  and  degrees"  (1915,  p.  10). 

To  demand  of  the  biologist  an  explanation  of  the  double 
aspect  of  the  psycho-physical  being  is  to  demand  the  im- 
possible. Organisms  are  unique  facts;  intelligent  organisms 
are  unique  facts.  But  if  the  biologist  is  pressed  hard  and 
asked  if  there  is  no  other  unique  fact  beside  which  he  can 
place  his  double-aspect  organism,  perhaps  he  may  answer, 
"  Why,  there  is  only  thought  itself,  which  is  subjective  and 
objective  at  once." 


254       THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND 

The  ^  Body  and  Mind '  problem  has  served  to  stretch 
man's  brains  for  more  than  two  thousand  years,  and  there 
are  many  who  would  abandon  it  with  the  word  '  Ignorabi- 
mus  \  But  Man  will  never  leave  it  alone,  and  the  resolute 
endeavour  after  greater  clearness  is  likely  to  bring  its  own 
reward  even  if  the  riddle  remain  unread.  For  the  inquiry 
patiently  prosecuted  is  likely  to  lead  to  a  deeper  appreciation 
of  what  we  call  '  Body  '  and  of  what  we  call  '  Mind  '.  And 
this  deeper  appreciation  is  the  practically  important  result. 

SUMMARY. 

The  approach  to  the  difficult  problem  of  the  relation  between 
*  body  ^  and  *  mind '  has  been  cleared  (a)  by  the  argument  that 
mechanical  formulation  is  inadequate  for  the  description  of  vital 
activities,  and  (b)  by  the  recognition  of  the  pervasive  role  of 
'  mentahty  '  in  Animate  Nature. 

In  any  consideration  of  the  problem  there  must  be  borne  in  mind, 
from  the  biological  side,  how  gradually  mind  develops  in  the  in- 
dividual, how  gradually  mind  has  evolved  in  the  races  of  animals, 
and  how  intimately  inter-dependent  the  psychical  and  neural  pro- 
cesses are.     Whatever  theory  is  adopted,  these  facts  remain. 

In  any  consideration  of  the  problem  there  must  be  borne  in  mind, 
from  the  humanist  side,  the  reality  of  the  thought-life,  the  reality 
of  the  external  spiritual  not-self  which  man  has  in  the  course 
of  ages  built  up,  and  the  potency  of  spiritual  values  in  history  and  in 
everyday  life.    Whatever  theory  is  adopted,  these  facts  remain. 

The  question  is  how  we  are  to  think  of  our  thought-life  and  of 
our  brain-life  in  relation  to  one  another,  for  we  can  at  any  rate 
talk  of  them  as  distinct  actualities.  At  least  seven  answers  have 
been  given  to  this  question.  Two  of  these  are  only  acceptable  on 
the  mechanistic  hypothesis,  namely  (I)  the  throughgoing  material- 
istic answer  and  (II)  the  theory  of  epiphenomenahsm.  The  theory 
at  the  very  opposite  extreme — subjective  ideahsm — (III)  seems  to 
deny  the  possibihty  of  science.  The  theory  of  psycho-physical 
parallelism  (IV)  lands  in  apparently  inextricable  difficulties — so 
well  exposed  by  Prof.  James  Ward.  There  remain  in  the  field  three 
possible  theories: — (V)  the  theory  of  psychical  monism,  which  few 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  BODY  AND  MIND       255 

scientific  investigators  can  entertain;  (VI)  the  theory  of  animism 
or  the  soul-theory;  and  (VII)  the  identity  hypothesis,  or  two-aspect 
theory,  or  correlation  theory. 

A  case  can  be  reasonably  stated  for  the  theory  of  psychical 
monism,  for  the  soul-theory,  and  for  the  two-aspect  theory,  and  a 
decision  must  be  left  with  the  individual  according  to  his  personal 
experience.  Each  theory  has  its  own  advantages  and  its  own  dif- 
ficulties. WHaen  the  biological  facts  are  dominant  in  the  mind  the 
balance  will  swing  towards  the  '  two-aspect  theory '  or  *  identity 
hypothesis,'  which  regards  the  living  creature  as  a  psycho-physical 
unity,  psychosis  and  neurosis  being  two  aspects  of  one  and  the 
same  continuous  life. 

Perhaps,  as  in  the  case  of  vitalism,  the  most  consistent  scientific 
position  is  to  keep  firmly  to  the  fact  that  just  as  the  everyday 
functions  of  the  organism,  not  to  speak  of  its  development,  hered- 
ity, and  evolution,  cannot  be  adequately  described  in  terms  of 
chemico-physical  concepts,  so  it  appears  that  many  of  the  forms  of 
behaviour  cannot  be  adequately  described  in  terms  of  the  concepts 
of  biology.  A  new  aspect  of  reality  is  expressed  requiring  new 
categories — psychological  categories.  This  is  but  a  pedantic  way 
of  expressing  what  was  said  of  old:  "Surely  the  life  is  more 
than  food." 


LECTURE  VIII. 
THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY. 


LECTUKE  VIII. 
THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY. 

§  1.  ^  Synoptic  View  of  Animate  Nature  Must  Include  the  Fact 
of  the  Pervasiveness  of  Beauty,  §  2.  General  Characteristics 
of  the  Esthetic  Emotion.  §  3.  Beauty  a  General  Quality  of 
Animate  Nature.  §  4.  Theoretical  Objections  to  the  Thesis. 
§  5.  Concrete  Objections.  §  6.  Factors  in  /Esthetic  Delight. 
§  7.  Aspects  of  Beauty  in  Animate  Nature.  §  8.  Biological 
Significance  of  Beauty  to  the  Beautiful  Organisms  themselves. 
§  9.  Beauty  of  Animal  Artifice.  §  10.  Evolution  of  Esthetic 
Emotion.  §  11.  The  Significance  of  the  Pervasive  Beauty  of 
Animate  Nature. 

§  1.     A  Synoptic  View  of  Animate  Nature  Must  Include 
the  Fact  of  the  Pervasiveness  of  Beauty. 

In  an  inquiry  into  the  significance  of  Animate  ISTature, 
there  is  no  getting  past  the  fact  of  Beauty.  Whatever  we 
make  of  it,  the  Beauty  of  Nature  is  a  joy  for  ever  to  many, 
not  only  to  the  cultured,  but  to  the  unsophisticated  who 
never  heard  of  the  aesthetic  attitude.  Man's  contemplative 
and  disinterested  delight  in  the  beautiful  is  well-nigh  the 
best  of  him;  and  it  is  a  reasonable  and  verified  belief  that 
we  get  at  something  in  this  way  which  can  be  reached  by 
no  other,  certainly  not  by  scientific  analysis  or  by  logic. 
There  are  curiously  few  general  affirmations  that  we  can 
make  about  Nature;  one  is  that  Nature  is  in  great  part 
intelligible  or  rationalisable,  and  another  is  that  Nature 
is  in  greater  part  beautiful. 

It  is  our  object  in  these  lectures  to  indicate  what  contri- 

/  359 


260  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

butions  Biological  Science  has  to  offer  to  a  general  view 
of  the  world,  and  it  is  impossible  for  biologists  to  pass  over 
the  pervasiveness  of  beauty  in  the  realm  of  organisms.  We 
cannot  say  that  science  is  required  to  discover  this  beauty 
in  its  obvious  expressions  in  bird  and  flower,  but  its  luxuri- 
ance in  the  unobtrusive,  in  the  well-concealed,  in  internal 
and  microscopic  structure,  and  among  the  unicellulars  cannot 
be  discerned  without  scientific  investigation.  If  the  popular 
impression  be  that  beauty  is  the  exception,  the  scientific  im- 
pression is  that  beauty  is  the  rule.  For  a  long  time,  perhaps 
till  the  middle  of  the  19th  century.  Beauty  was  very  gen- 
erally spoken  of  as  a  quality  of  the  exotic — the  orchid  and 
the  Bird  of  Paradise — now  we  feel  it  most  at  our  doors.  St. 
Peter's  lesson  has  been  learned,  for  we  find  nought  common 
on  the  earth.  As  one  of  the  poets  says,  "  Beauty  crowds  us 
all  our  life."  Moreover,  sound  science  tells  us  much  that  is 
very  interesting  regarding  the  beautiful  and  intensifies  our 
appreciation  of  its  significance. 

§  2.     General  Characteristics  of  the  Esthetic  Emotion, 

We  mean  by  the  beautiful  that  which  excites  in  us  the 
particular  kind  of  emotion  which  we  call  esthetic.  This  is 
experienced  in  many  degrees  of  intensity  and  of  purity,  but 
it  is  distinctive.  The  gesthetic  emotion  is  not  excited  by 
touch,  taste,  or  smell.  The  aesthetic  emotion  is  an  end  in 
itself,  like  intellectual  contemplation,  though  it  may  liberate 
Man's  formative  impulse.  It  grips  us  as  organisms,  ^  body 
and  soul '  at  once,  and  abides  with  us  incarnate.  The  thing 
of  beauty  is  a  joy  for  ever.  Prof.  B.  Bosanquet  points  out 
(1915)  that  sesthetic  feeling  has  qualities  of  permanence,  rel- 
evance, and  community.  That  is  to  say,  it  brings  no  satiety; 
it  is  annexed  to  particular  qualities — not  a  feeling  of  general 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  2G1 

well-being;  and  it  grows  as  we  share  it  with  others.  In  all 
but  its  simplest  expressions,  it  strikes  the  chords  of  imagina- 
tion, for,  as  Professor  Bosanquet  insists,  ^'  the  aesthetic  atti- 
tude is  an  attitude  in  which  we  imaginatively  contemplate  an 
object,  being  able  in  that  way  to  live  in  it  as  an  embodiment 
of  our  feeling.  .  .  .  The  aesthetic  attitude  so  far  as  enjoy- 
able''  is  '^  the  pleasant  awareness  of  a  feeling  embodied  in 
an  appearance  presented  to  imagination  or  imaginative 
perception.'' 

§  3.     Beauty  a  General  Quality  of  Animate  Nature, 

ITow,  what  seems  to  us  to  be  a  fact,  and  a  very  interesting 
fact,  is  that  all  natural,  free-living,  fully-formed,  healthy 
living  creatures,  which  we  can  contemplate  without  preju- 
dice, are  in  their  appropriate  surroundings  artistic  har- 
monies, having  that  quality  which  we  call  beauty.  That  is 
to  say  they  have  qualities — objective  qualities — which  excite 
in  us  a  particular  kind  of  emotion,  often  of  a  very  high 
order.  To  many  of  us — of  the  eye-minded  type — the  blotting 
out  of  the  annual  pageant,  say  of  flowers  and  of  birds,  would 
be  the  extinguishing  of  one  of  the  lights  of  life.  But  we 
must  pause  to  inquire  whether  our  proposition  really  ex- 
presses a  fact. 

§  4.     Theoretical  Objections  to  the  Thesis. 

The  first  objection  is,  that  beauty  is  in  no  sense  a  quality 
of  things,  but  is  wholly  in  our  minds — purely  subjective. 
Hegel,  forgetful  of  Schelling  and  Goethe,  remarked  that 
it  had  never  occurred  to  any  one  to  emphasise  the  aspect 
of  beauty  in  natural  things,  that  in  fact  the  beauty  was  not 
in  the  things  but  in  the  contemplating  mind.  Some  other 
philosophers,  such  as  Vaihinger, — the  author  of  The  Philos- 


262  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

ophy  of  the  As  If, — have  maintained  that  the  Beautiful  is 
one  of  Man's  self-preservative  '  fictions  ' — whistlings  to  keep 
his  courage  up.  But  this  is  an  extreme  of  subjectivism.  No 
doubt  the  aesthetic  emotion  implies  a  racially  and  individu- 
ally attuned  mind,  but  this  is  not  thrilled  except  in  the  pres- 
ence of  compositions  of  lines  and  combinations  of  colours 
which  have  a  particular  quality.  There  are  other  compo- 
sitions and  combinations — usually  of  our  own  making — 
which  fail  to  please  us,  which  have  not  the  quality.  Except 
in  reminiscence,  we  do  not  have  the  aesthetic  joy  unless  the 
thing  of  beauty  is  there,  and  in  regard  to  animate  objects 
there  is  remarkable  congruence  of  emotion  on  the  part  of 
the  observers,  after  certain  readily  intelligible  difficulties 
have  been  overcome.  Moreover,  as  a  domesticated  animal 
or  cultivated  plant  degenerates  under  artificial  conditions, 
becoming  obese,  or  coarse,  or  scraggy,  as  the  case  may  be, 
there  is  a  correlated  slackening  in  our  pleasure  in  it.  There 
is  an  objective  basis  of  ugliness  correlated  with  our  subjective 
repulsion. 

And  again,  it  cannot  be  a  mental  fiction,  this  aesthetic  de- 
light, for  if  there  is  any  corner  of  experience  where  the 
unity  of  body  and  mind  is  more  forcibly  illustrated  than 
elsewhere,  it  is  in  connection  with  the  aesthetic  emotion.  It 
is  a  body-and-mind  reaction.  "  If  we  try,"  says  Professor 
Bosanquet  (1915),  ^^  to  cut  out  the  bodily  side  of  our  world, 
we  shall  find  that  we  have  reduced  the  mental  side  to  a  mere 
nothing." 

Speaking  of  "  the  aspects  of  beauty  and  sublimity  which 
we  recognise  in  Nature,  and  the  finer  spirit  of  sense  revealed 
by  the  insight  of  the  poet  and  the  artist ",  Professor  Pringle- 
Pattison  writes :  "  These  things  also  are  not  subjective  imag- 
inings ;  they  give  us  a  deeper  truth  than  ordinary  vision. 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  263 

just  as  the  more  developed  eye  or  ear  carries  us  farther  into 
Nature's  refinements  and  beauties  "  (1917,  p.  127).  "  Phi- 
losophy does  not  require  us,  then,  to  treat  the  beauty  and 
sublimity  of  natural  objects  as  subjective  emotions  in  the 
bystander:  we  are  entitled,  on  the  principles  I  have  been 
advocating,  to  treat  them  as  qualities  of  the  object  just  as 
much  as  the  vaunted  primary  qualities"  ...  (p.  129). 
^'  Things  are  as  they  reveal  themselves  in  their  fullness  to 
the  knowing  mind  ''  (p.  130). 

It  is  highly  probable  that  our  likes  and  dislikes,  our 
standards  and  criteria,  have  been  to  some  extent  wrought 
out  in  the  course  of  ages  of  familiarity  with  Nature.  It  is 
highly  probable  that  certain  arrangements  of  lines  and  colours 
please  us  greatly  because  of  racial  and  even  pre-human  asso- 
ciations, for  we  are  strange  medleys  of  organic  memories. 
But  no  one  can  say  that  he  knows  much  about  this.  There 
are  some  cases  of  apparent  aesthetic  delight  among  animals, 
e.g.,  that  of  the  Bower-birds  which  decorate  their  honey- 
moon bower  with  brightly  coloured  objects,  apparently  pro- 
ductive of  pleasant  excitement.  But  we  do  not  wish  to 
make  much  of  the  rather  problematical  aesthetic  predisposi- 
tions inherited  from  pre-human  ancestry,  especially  since 
whatever  was  thus  entailed  had  to  pass  muster  with  Man 
himself,  had  to  be  assimilated  or  eliminated,  approved  or 
rejected  by  an  evolving  rational  being.  Allowing  something 
for  hereditary  associations,  we  have  to  face  the  fact  that 
man  has  a  great  pleasure  in  the  lines  and  colours  of,  say, 
flowers  and  birds;  and  our  point  is  that  these  are  not  '  any- 
how '  lines  and  colours,  but  have  a  positive  quality. 

It  is  worth  noting  (1)  that  many  quite  unfamiliar  living 
creatures — such  as  deep-sea  animals — are  recognised  at  first 
glance  as  triumphantly  beautiful;  (2)  that  it  is  among  the 


264  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

domesticated  and  the  cultivated,  in  favour  of  which  man 
should  be  prejudiced,  that  we  find  the  best  examples  of  the 
uglj;  and  (3)  that  for  many  people  the  most  beautiful 
things — that  is  to  say,  the  things  which  evoke  the  keenest 
aesthetic  delight — are  not  natural  objects,  but  queer  creations 
which  bear  no  resemblance  to  anything  in  the  heavens  above, 
or  in  the  earth  beneath,  or  even  in  the  waters  under  the 
earth  where  strange  beings  abound.  Yet  the  beautiful  thing 
— a  decoration,  a  piece  of  pottery,  a  tile — thrills  us  through 
and  through,  and  we  never  tire  of  it. 

Another  objection  is  based  on  the  capriciousness  of  taste. 
In  his  well-known  Romanes  Lecture  on  ''  Criticism  and 
Beauty  ",  Mr.  Arthur  J.  Balfour  laid  emphasis  on  the  con- 
spicuous absence  of  common  agreement  as  to  what  is  beauti- 
ful. There  is  no  accepted  body  of  sesthetic  doctrine.  Taste 
differs  with  race,  age,  and  degree  of  culture.  Greece  had 
apparently  in  ancient  days  values  very  different  from  ours 
as  to  music,  and  in  pictorial  art  what  is  one  man's  food  is 
another  man's  poison.  Even  among  the  aristocracy  of  taste, 
what  agreement  is  there  among  the  various  schools  and 
critics  ?  Mr.  Balfour  maintains  that  there  is  no  standard 
of  the  beautiful  to  be  found  (a)  by  critical  analysis,  or 
(h)  in  the  consensus  of  experts,  or  (c)  in  the  general  suffrage 
of  pleased  mankind.  So  he  concludes  that  just  as  that  is 
for  every  man  most  lovable  which  he  most  dearly  loves,  so 
that  is  for  every  man  most  beautiful  which  he  most  deeply 
admires. 

Perhaps  we  may  evade  the  force  of  this  argument  by 
remembering  that  Mr.  Balfour  was  discussing  art,  while 
our  theme  is  Nature,  which  makes  a  great  difference.  More- 
over, while  there  is  discrepancy  of  view  among  experts  as 
regards  the  merits  of  subtle  expressions  of  art,  there  is  usu- 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  266 

ally  agreement  in  appreciating  straightforward  sesthetic  ex- 
cellence and  in  rejecting  the  ugly. 

In  maintaining  the  objectivity  of  beauty  we  recognise  to 
the  full  the  subjective  side,  namely  the  aesthetic  emotion, 
which  is  complex,  not  simple.  The  emotion  is  the  subjective 
side,  and,  as  every  one  knows,  very  'personaly  varying  with 
age,  health,  state  of  mind,  past  experiences,  and  so  forth: 
but  certain  qualities  of  form,  colour,  and  movement  in  the 
objects  of  contemplation  are  objective  and  do  not  in  any 
way  depend  on  us.  Against  this  position  it  does  not  seem 
particularly  cogent  to  urge  that  the  uneducated  may  see 
no  beauty  in  a  grass;  that  the  sick  man  may  find  his  old 
favourites  intrusive  and  repugnant;  that  an  analysis  of  our 
delight  in  the  beautiful  reveals  subtle  associations  and  self- 
projections.  For  it  must  be  remembered  that  all  sensory 
alertness  demands  discipline ;  that  there  is,  so  to  speak,  easy 
beauty  and  difficult  beauty — the  latter  often  mistaken  by 
the  careless  for  ugliness;  that  health  in  subject  and  in  ani- 
mate object  is  the  normal  state  with  which  we  have  primarily 
to  reckon ;  and  that  a  pleasedness  directly  induced  by  certain 
qualities  of  things  may  be  enhanced  and  overwhelmed  by 
secondary  factors  due  much  more  to  the  world  within  than 
to  the  world  without. 

§  5.     Concrete  Objections, 

But  there  is  another  series  of  objections,  perhaps  to  the 
scientific  mind  more  interesting.  These  consist  in  bringing 
forward  evidence  that  the  realm  of  organisms  is  spotted  with 
ugliness.  To  meet  these  objections  let  us  briefly  explain  the 
saving-clauses  attached  to  our  thesis. 

(1)  There  are  some  creatures  which  the  average  man 
cannot  contemplate  without  prejudice.     He  does  not  admire 


266  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

the  jellyfish,  beyond  doubt  a  decorative  masterpiece,  because 
he  was  once  stung;  he  cannot  abide  the  handsome  newt  be- 
cause of  its  clammy  skin ;  he  does  not  appreciate  the  snake's 
beauty  because  of  the  Garden  of  Eden.  There  is  no  use 
trying  to  get  a  fair  verdict  from  a  packed  jury.  In  testing 
our  thesis  we  must  exclude  cases  where  our  impressions  are 
more  or  less  excusably  warped  by  some  unpleasant  associa- 
tion— by  something  which  is  often  at  least  quite  extrinsic 
to  the  creature.  It  is  difficult,  even  for  a  naturalist,  to  judge 
impartially  of  the  artistic  merits  of  parasites,  though  in 
some  cases,  like  dodder  and  mistletoe,  the  beauty  is  too 
strong  for  our  prejudice.  In  support  of  the  view  that  l^ature 
is  spotted  with  ugliness,  Prof.  James  Ward  refers  to  crea- 
tures like  the  spinose  lizard  which  has  been  called  Moloch 
horridus.  But  his  examples  are  unfortunate.  They  are 
animals  in  regard  to  which  a  prejudiced  association  might 
readily  arise;  but  they  are  delightful  quaint  creatures  over 
which  the  artist  is  enthusiastic. 

The  other  saving-clauses  are  slightly  different.  To  get 
a  clear  issue  we  must  exclude  domesticated  animals  such  as 
prize  pigs,  and  cultivated  plants  such  as  the  buxom  cabbage, 
which  are  non-viable  in  a  state  of  nature,  and  bear  too  ob- 
viously the  marks  of  man's  fingers.  We  may  exclude  also 
unfinished  or  embryonic  stages,  which  are  often,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  hidden  away  very  carefully  in  Nature.  We  may  ex- 
clude also  all  captive  creatures  which  are  distorted  or  crippled 
by  parasites  or  by  disease,  and  all  the  monsters  of  the  terato- 
logical  show  which  Nature  would  not  have  tolerated  for  a  mo- 
ment. These  are  ugly,  and  we  shall  see,  later  on,  that  there 
are  several  objective  reasons  for  their  being  repulsive  to  us. 
Our  thesis  refers  to  wholesome  wild  nature. 

Another  saving-clause  is  significant.    If  we  are  to  appraise 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  267 

rightly  we  must  see  the  creature  in  its  native  haunts, — in 
the  environment  to  which  it  is  adapted,  which  is  in  a  sense 
its  external  heritage,  which  it  has  in  some  cases  sought  out. 
The  hippopotamus  at  the  Zoo  may  fail  to  excite  aesthetic 
emotion,  but  that  this  is  our  misfortune  and  not  Behemoth's 
fault  is  evident  from  the  book  of  Job.  We  have  to  see  him 
as  the  author  of  that  poem  saw  him,  with  his  ruddy  hide 
in  the  shade  of  the  lotuses,  in  the  covert  of  the  reeds  and  fens. 
"  His  strength  is  in  his  loins,  his  force  in  the  sinews  of 
his  belly,  the  muscles  of  his  thighs  are  knit  together,  his 
bones  are  pipes  of  brass,  his  limbs  are  like  bars  of  iron,  he 
is  the  chief  of  the  ways  of  God."  And  we,  purblind,  call 
the  hippopotamus  an  ugly  creature! 

This  is  a  subtle  subject  which  we  venture  to  discuss — 
the  pervasiveness  of  a  certain  quality  in  living  things  and 
in  the  inorganic  domain  as  well  that  makes  life  to  the  rela- 
tively unfettered  a  continuous  delight.  So  we  must  be  par- 
doned if  we  treat  it  gently,  rather  than  with  stern  analysis. 
The  science  of  aesthetics  has  not  gone  far  yet,  and  we  are 
not  desirous  of  doing  much  more  ■  than  pleading  that  our 
synoptic  view  of  Nature  must  include  a  frank  recognition 
of  the  fact  of  beauty. 

§  6.     Factors  in  Esthetic  Delight, 

What  is  implied  in  our  aesthetic  emotion  when  we  watch 
beautiful  animals — the  Shetland  ponies  racing  in  the  field, 
the  kingfisher  darting  up  the  stream  like  an  arrow  made  of 
a  piece  of  rainbow,  the  mayflies  rising  in  a  living  cloud 
from  a  quiet  stretch  of  the  river,  or  the  sea-anemones  nestling 
like  flowers  in  the  niches  of  the  shore-pool  ?  What  is  implied 
in  our  thrill  at  finding  in  a  corner  of  the  rocks  near  the 
waterfall  a  stately  Royal  Fern — 


268  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

"  Plant    lovelier    in    its    own    recess 
Than   Grecian   naiad   seen   at  earliest   dawn 
Tending  her  font,  or   Lady   of  the  lake 
Sole  sitting  by  the  shores  of  old  romance." 

In  the  first  place,  our  enjoyment  has  a  sensory  or  physi- 
ological factor.  What  we  see  sets  up  agreeable  rhythmic 
processes  in  our  eyes,  and  agreeable  rhythmic  messages — 
waves  of  chemical  reaction  if  you  will — pass  to  our  brain, 
and  the  good  news — the  pleasedness — is  echoed  throughout 
the  body, — in  the  pulse,  for  instance,  and  the  beating  of  the 
heart.  Wordsworth  was  a  better  physiologist  than  he  knew 
when  he  said,  '^  my  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold  a  rainbow 
in  the  sky  ",  or  again,  "  And  then  my  heart  with  pleasure 
fills,  and  dances  with  the  daffodils ''.  As  with  music,  so 
with  beautiful  sights  external  rhythms  are  often  echoed 
in  internal  rhythms,  and  rhythms  are  pleasant.  It  is  easy 
enough  to  burlesque  the  idea  of  the  physiological  factor  in 
aesthetic  delight,  but  the  sensory  thrill  is  always  there,  and 
in  simple  cases,  where  perception  is  not  wide  awake,  it  may 
be  predominant.  We  cannot  enter  into  the  difficult  question 
of  the  precise  relation  of  the  bodily  resonance  to  the  aesthetic 
emotion,  in  connection  with  which  three  views  have  been 
held.  They  are  thus  stated  by  Sherrington: — (a)  that  emo- 
tion is  first  aroused  and  that  its  nervous  correlate  excites 
bodily  resonance;  (h)  that  the  stimulus  excites  the  mind 
and  the  nervous  centres  for  visceral  resonance  concurrently; 
and  (c)  that  the  stimulus  acts  on  centres  ruling  the  viscera, 
and  that  the  visceral  sensations,  laden  with  affective  quality, 
induce  the  emotion.  We  adhere  to  Sherrington's  conclusion, 
that  the  visceral  resonance  is  secondary  to  the  cerebral  ex- 
citement and  the  associated  emotion,  that  it  reinforces  rather 
than  initiates  the  joy. 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  269 

The  second  factor  in  our  aesthetic  delight  is  perceptual. 
The  '  form  '  (in  the  widest  sense)  of  what  we  contemplate 
is  significant  for  us  and  satisfies  our  feeling.  Beauty  in- 
creases with  significance  of  form,  with  the  degree  in  which 
meaning  is  suffused  into  material,  or  with  the  degree  in 
which  the  way  is  opened  to  us  to  give  imaginative  interpre- 
tation. The  aesthetic  attitude,  Professor  Bosanquet  says,  "  is 
an  attitude  in  which  we  imaginatively  contemplate  an  object, 
being  able  in  that  way  to  live  in  it  as  an  embodiment  of 
our  feeling  ".  We  actively  respond  to  what  we  enjoy  looking 
at,  projecting  ourselves  into  it,  reading  ourselves  or  some- 
thing else  into  it,  in  an  aesthetic  illusion,  which  has  some- 
thing in  common  with  make-believe  forms  of  play,  just  as 
these  in  turn  are  linked  on  to  art.  It  is  because  of  the  im- 
portance of  this  factor  that  many  have  been  led  to  the  idea, 
which  seems  to  us  mistaken,  that  the  quality  of  beauty  is 
altogether  subjective. 

If  the  beautiful  form  which  moves  us  is  truly  excellent, 
it  becomes  more  significant  in  all  its  details,  in  proportion 
to  the  intensity  of  our  aesthetic  contemplation.  The  form 
lends  itself  to  more  and  more  meaning.  The  imagination 
receives  a  succession  of  liberating  stimuli,  one  after  the 
other,  according  to  the  depth  of  the  beauty  of  the  object; 
and  the  fact  which  seems  to  us  to  be  outstanding  is  that 
the  lines  and  patterns  and  colours  of  living  creatures  go 
to  make  up  a  '  form  '  which  almost  never  disappoints. 

In  its  highest  reaches  the  imaginative  perception  rises 
into  the  poet's  vision,  of  which  Blake  speaks: — 


(I 


And  before  my  way 
A  frowning^  thistle  implores  my  stay. 
What  to  others  a  trifle  appears 
Fills  me  full  of  smiles  or  tears; 


270  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

For  double  the  vision  my  eyes  do  see, 
And  a  double  vision  is  always  with  me, 
With  my  inward  eye,  'tis  an  old  man  grey. 
With  my  outward  a  thistle  across  my  way." 

While  venturing  to  lay  some  emphasis  on  the  objectivity 
of  beauty  and  on  the  physiological  as  well  as  psychological 
side  of  the  aesthetic  emotion,  we  recognise  that  the  higher 
factors  may  come  to  mean  much  more  than  the  primary  ones. 
As  Professor  Bosanquet  says,  "  Man  is  not  civilised,  aestheti- 
cally, till  he  has  learned  to  value  the  semblance  above  the  real- 
ity. It  is  indeed,  as  we  shall  see,  in  one  sense  the  higher 
reality." 

A  third  factor  in  our  aesthetic  delight  is  conceptual.  Ex- 
perts maintain  that  nothing  which  does  not  appear  can  count 
in  the  aesthetic  impression,  but  it  seems  to  us  impossible  to 
shut  off  the  effect  of  associations  and  the  influence  of  con- 
cepts on  percepts.  There  is,  for  instance,  the  influence  of 
the  concept  of  adaptiveness  which  is  always  in  the  back- 
ground of  the  naturalist's  mind,  as  is,  indeed,  true  of  most 
of  us.  That  thoughtful  physiologist,  Sir  John  Burden 
Sanderson,  was  fiiTaly  persuaded  that  an  appreciation  of 
adaptiveness  bulks  very  largely  in  our  aesthetic  enjoyment 
of  animal  form  and  structure.  Canon  Hannay  speaks  of  the 
delight  of  watching  the  flight  of  birds : — '^  Above  the  rocks 
hovered  the  gulls  with  outstretched  wings.  Sometimes  they 
slid  down  the  wind  till  they  almost  touched  the  sea.  Then 
with  slow  strong  beatings  of  their  wings  they  rose  high  again, 
slanted  seaward  against  the  breeze,  swept  in  wide  circles, 
lazily  indifferent  as  it  seemed  to  destination,  but  bent  on 
satisfying  themselves  with  exquisite  smooth  motion."  As 
we  watch  this  everyday  sight  we  have  purely  aesthetic  ad- 
miration of  the  grace  of  the  creatures  and  of  the  music 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  271 

of  their  movements.  There  is  sensory  pleasure  and  there  is 
imaginative  sympathy.  But  the  delight  is  subtly  heightened 
by  an  appreciation  of  the  fitness  of  the  birds  to  this  mastery 
of  the  air, — an  appreciation  that  steals  into  the  mind  rather 
as  an  aroma  than  as  a  cold-blooded  scientific  reflection. 

By  the  objectivity  of  the  beauty  of  Animate  Nature  we 
mean  that  there  is  in  the  ^  form  '  of  plants  and  animals  a 
positive  quality  which  excites  the  aesthetic  emotion.  Speak- 
ing of  tragic  poetry,  Mr.  Bertrand  Russell  says:  "  it  becomes 
possible  at  last  so  to  transform  and  refashion  the  unconscious 
universe,  so  to  transmute  it  in  the  crucible  of  imagination, 
that  a  new  image  of  shining  gold  replaces  the  old  idol  of 
clay.  In  all  the  multiform  facts  of  the  world — in  the  visual 
shapes  of  trees  and  mountains  and  clouds,  in  the  events  of 
the  life  of  man,  even  in  the  omnipotence  of  Death — the 
insight  of  creative  idealism  can  find  the  reflection  of  a 
beauty  which  its  own  thoughts  first  made."  This  is  splen- 
didly said,  and  that  man's  mind  should  be  able  to  assert 
"  its  subtle  mastery  over  the  thoughtless  forces  of  Nature  " 
is  something  to  ponder  over,  but  our  concern  is  with  simpler 
things  than  the  triumph  of  imaginative  idealisation.  We 
are  pleading  for  the  reality  of  a  beauty  which  man's  thoughts 
did  not  first  make. 

§  7.     Aspects  of  Beauty  in  Animate  Nature. 

Another  question  arises :  Of  what  elements  does  the  beauty 
of  plants  and  animals  consist?  The  general  answer  must 
be :  In  combinations  and  arrangements  of  lines  and  colours, 
and,  in  the  case  of  animals,  in  movements  as  well. 

It  has  been  known  for  centuries  that  certain  forms  are 
much  more  pleasing  than  others.  This  has  been  borne  out 
by  experiments  with  children  and  other  unsophisticated  per- 


272  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

sons.  Thus  an  ellipse  with  its  axes  in  the  proportion  5 :  3 
has  been  recorded  as  very  pleasing  since  300  b.c.  ;  it  is  the 
golden  or  divine  section ;  it  leads  on  to  the  mystic  pentagram. 
But  why  it  is  more  pleasing  than  other  ellipses,  or  than  a 
rectangle,  who  can  tell  us  ?  The  eye  registers  certain  forms 
with  pleasure;  there  are  lines  that  flow  and  shapes  that  sing. 
The  approximate  logarithmic  spirals,  so  common  throughout 
organic  nature,  for  instance  in  horns  and  cones,  in  shells 
and  buds,  are  peculiarly  pleasing. 

Perhaps  this  depends  in  part  on  racial  education.  For 
racially  we  were  brought  up  in  the  country,  and  grew  up 
more  appreciative  of  rounded  surfaces  than  of  sharp  corners. 
When  we  get  beyond  the  domain  of  the  inorganic,  Nature 
is  on  the  whole  a  world  of  curves.  We  were  .brought  up 
on  curves.  Perhaps  certain  dominant  associations  of  very 
early  origin  linked  curves  and  pleasure  together.  Even  our 
photographic  plate — our  retina — is  a  beautiful  curved  sur- 
face, and  this  may  have  something  to  do  with  our  dislike 
of  the  angular. 

Among  organisms  we  like  best  those  with  flowing  lines, 
which  repeat  one  another  rhythmically;  which  conspire,  as 
Lessing  said,  to  one  effect;  which  are  readily  summed  up; 
which  compose.  We  are  apt  to  be  less  pleased  with  asym- 
metrical animals  (like  snails),  top-heavy  animals  (like  horn- 
bills),  disproportionately  lanky  animals  (like  ostriches),  not 
that  any  of  these  are  to  be  artistically  apologised  for.  We 
are  least  inclined  to  admire  creatures  whose  architectural 
plan  is  difficult  to  grasp,  which  are  distracting  conundrums, 
or  those  which  are  too  prolonged  and  monotonous  in  their 
repetition  (like  millipedes),  or  those  which  startle  our  per- 
ceptual conventionalities  (like  the  Indian  Ocean  fish  which 
has  a  window  right  through  it).     But  our  point  is  simply 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  273 

that  with  a  few  exceptions  (which  are  too  difficult  for  us) 
the  lines  of  living  creatures  are  such  that  they  give  us 
aesthetic  pleasure.  This  is  as  true  of  the  microscopic  shells 
of  Foraminifera  and  Radiolarians — which  are  joys  for  ever 
— as  of  the  lines  of  the  crane  and  of  the  cedar  of  Lebanon. 
It  is  as  true  of  the  carefully  hidden  down-feathers  of  the 
eagle  as  of  the  tail  of  the  peacock.  It  is  as  true  of  the 
internal  architecture  of  a  sea-urchin's  spine  as  of  the  external 
moulding  of  a  tiger.  It  is  as  true  of  the  minute  chiselling 
of  many  a  moth's  egg-shell  as  of  the  sweeping  lines  of  an 
Iguanodon.  Is  there  no  significance  in  the  omnipresence 
of  these  pleasing  lines  ? 

The  second  element  in  organic  beauty  is  colour,  which 
so  often  emphasises  and  enhances  the  value  of  form.  It 
seems  that  all  wild  animals  and  plants,  living  an  independent 
and  healthy  life  and  in  their  natural  surroundings,  are 
beautiful  in  colour,  that  is  to  say,  aesthetically  pleasing.  The 
combinations  in  parrots,  humming-birds,  birds  of  Paradise, 
coral-reef  fishes,  butterflies,  orchids,  and  the  like  are  often 
daring,  but  they  are  never  wrong.  That  is  to  say,  when 
we  look  at  natural  schemes  of  colour  we  are  always  pleased, 
which  means,  to  begin  with,  that  the  chemical  processes 
set  up  in  our  retina  are  harmonious.  It  may  be  remarked 
that  some  skin-diseases  involve  vivid  colours,  and  that  they 
displease  us, — partly  perhaps  because  associations  make  us 
feel  them  uglier  than  they  are,  but  partly  because  they  are 
ugly,  being  expressions  of  disharmonious  vital  processes, 
non-viable  failures  which  Nature  scarce  troubles  to  look  at, 
but  casts  at  once  as  rubbish  to  the  void.  The  coloration  of 
a  scallop  shell,  of  a  peacock's  feather,  of  a  poppy's  petal, 
and  so  forth,  depends  on  the  orderly  chemical  processes  of 
a  healthy  life,  and  it  is  perhaps  for  this  reason  primarily 


274  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

that  they  never  fail  to  set  up  pleasant  changes  in  the  human 
eye. 

The  third  component  of  the  beautiful  in  animals  is  move- 
ment.    Just  as  we  enjoy  watching  a  waterfall,  a  fountain, 
the  waves,  or  even  the  dance  of  motes  in  the  sunlit  air,  so 
we  are  delighted  with  the  jellyfishes  throbbing  in  the  tide, 
the  flotilla  of  sepias  all  keeping  time  as  they  swim,  the  flying- 
fishes  rising  before  the   prow   of   the   steamer   like   locusts 
before  us  as  we  walk  in  the  meadow,  the  porpoises  gam- 
bolling in  the  waves,  the  jerboas  with  their  startling  jumps, 
the  flight  of  bat  and  bird  and  butterfly,  and  the  way  of  the 
serpent  on  the  rock.    Let  us  watch  the  last.     As  Sir  Richard 
Owen  said,  the  snake  can  ''  outclimb  the  monkey,  outswim 
the  fish,  outleap  the  zebra,  outwrestle  the  athlete,  and  crush 
the  tiger  '\     The  accurate  zoologist  cannot  accept  every  word 
of  Ruskin's  famous  description  of  the  way  of  the  serpent, 
but  he  will  admit  that  it  gets  at  the  fact  of  beauty.     ^^  That 
rivulet  of  smooth  silver — how  does  it  flow,  think  you  ?     It 
literally   rows   on  the  earth  with  every   scale  for   an  oar; 
it  bites  the  dust  with  the  ridges  of  its  body.     Watch  it  when 
it  moves  slowly — a  wave,  but  without  wind !  a  current,  but 
with  no  fall !  all  the  body  moving  at  the  same  instant,  yet 
some  of  it  to  one  side,  some  to  another,  or  some  forward  and 
the  rest  of  the  coil  backwards,  but  all  with  the  same  calm 
will  and  equal  way — no  contraction,  no  extension ;  one  sound- 
less, causeless,  march  of  sequent  rings,  and  spectral  proces- 
sion of  spotted  dust,  with  dissolution  in  its  fangs  and  dis- 
location in  its  coils.     Startle  it — the  winding  stream  will  be- 
come a  twisted  arrow;  the  wave  of  poisoned  life  will  lash 
through  the  grass  like  a  cast  lance." 

Spoil  an  animal — say  by  fattening — and  the  beauty  of 
its  movements  vanishes, — we  have  the  waddling  duck  and 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  275 

the  wobbling  pig.  But  the  general  fact  unquestionably  is 
that  the  movements  of  wild  animals  are  eurhythmic.  We 
like  them  primarily  because  they  set  up  a  pleasant  internal 
mimicry  of  eurhythmic  movements  within  ourselves.  We 
admire  the  fitness  of  the  structure  to  the  movements;  an 
accompanying  song  may  increase  the  thrill ;  we  add  the 
imaginative  touch ;  the  lark  is  at  heaven's  gate  and  we  with  it, 

§  8.     Biological   Significance   of   Beauty   to   the   Beautiful 

Organisms  themselves. 

The  question  now  rises  whether  the  combinations  and 
arrangements  of  lines  and  colours  in  organisms — which  mean 
so  much  to  us — mean  anything  physiologically  in  their  pos- 
sessors. Is  there  any  deep  reason  behind  them?  (a)  In 
some  cases  the  answer  is  easy,  for  the  arrangements  are  ob- 
viously useful — in  giving  stability  of  architecture,  in  reduc- 
ing friction,  and  in  economising  materials.  Thus  one  of 
the  most  exquisite  structures  in  the  world  is  the  flinty  skel- 
eton of  Venus'  Flower  Basket  (Euplectella)  ;  and  the  ex- 
perts say  that  the  architecture  of  this  is  very  perfectly 
adapted  to  stand  such  strains  as  are  put  on  it  as  it  rises 
like  a  fairy  palace  from  the  floor  of  the  deep  sea.  A  spirally 
coiled  tendril  is  a  pleasing  object,  and  we  know  that  it  is 
directly  useful  in  its  formation  by  drawing  the  climbing 
plant  closer  to  its  support  and  afterwards  by  forming  a 
spring  which  yields  to  the  wind  but  does  not  break.  The 
green  pigment  of  a  leaf  is  well  known  to  be  the  most  useful 
non-living  substance  in  the  w^orld,  but  though  the  greenness 
is  somehow  wrapped  up  with  its  chemical  composition  it 
might  conceivably  have  worked  just  as  well  had  it  not  been 
green.  On  the  other  hand,  colour  is  often  of  direct  external 
utility  in  giving  the  animal  a  garment  of  invisibility,  or  in 


276  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

giving  the  flower  an  advertisement  which  attracts  useful  in- 
sect visitors. 

(b)  Secondly  there  are  arrangements  of  lines  and  colours 
which  are  not  of  direct  use  to  their  possessors,  but  have  none 
the  less  a  physiological  significance,  being  expressions  of 
rhythmic  growth  and  orderly  chemical  processes.  The  pleas- 
ing parallel  lines  on  many  shells  express  periods  of  growths 
like  the  concentric  rings  inside  the  stem  of  a  tree  or  the 
spine  of  a  sea-urchin.  The  beautiful  cross-bars  on  a  hawk's 
feather  are  the  expression  of  diurnal  variations  in  the  blood- 
pressure  at  the  time  when  the  feather  was  amaking.  The 
subtlety  of  coloration  is  often  due  to  its  rhythmic  distribu- 
tion— its  waxing  and  waning,  its  paling  and  flushing — so  that 
it  represents  very  literally  the  ripple-marks  of  growth. 

(c)  But,  thirdly,  in  many  cases,  we  cannot  suggest  for 
the  beauty  any  utility  whatsoever,  either  direct  or  indirect. 
Just  as  it  is  the  way  of  water  in  certain  circumstances  to 
crystallise  into  very  beautiful  and  very  varied  snow-crystals, 
so  it  is  the  way  of  individualised  living  matter  to  form  the 
exquisitely  beautiful  shells  of  Foraminifera  and  Radiola- 
rians.  It  may  be  that  these  relatively  simple  animals  illus- 
trate something  that  may  be  called  organic  crystallisation, 
though  we  shall  afterwards  find  reason  to  suspect  that  this 
is  not  all ;  our  present  point  is  that  their  beauty  is  not  useful. 
Just  as  it  is  the  way  of  particles  of  water  in  the  atmosphere 
to  form  a  rainbow  when  the  sun  shines  through,  a  beautiful 
thing  that  has  no  meaning  at  all  except  to  us,  so  the  "  beauty 
for  ashes  "  that  transfigures  the  leaves  of  the  forest  in  their 
dying  has,  so  far  as  we  know,  no  significance  whatsoever 
to  the  plant.  The  withering  leaves  might  as  well  be  ugly, 
but  they  are  not.  Whence  again  rises  the  question.  Is  there 
any  meaning  in  this  pervasiveness  of  the  beautiful? 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  277 

The  main  part  of  the  answer  which  we  would  suggest 
is  simple.  Keeping  to  those  combinations  and  arrangements 
of  lines  and  colours  which  are  the  expression  of  development, 
growth,  and  activity,  what  strikes  us  as  characteristic  is  their 
harmony.  The  expert  in  these  matters  is  of  course  the  artist, 
the  producer  of  the  beautiful  and  of  more  than  beauty,  and 
his  verdict  almost  without  exception  is  that  every  one  of 
these  wild  creatures  is  an  artistic  unity.  The  simple  reason 
for  this  is  that  the  lines  and  the  colours,  in  their  arrange- 
ments and  combinations,  are  the  expression  of  unified  viable 
individualities  which  have  stood  the  test  of  time.  Perhaps 
this  is  in  agreement  with  Signor  Croce's  definition  of  beauty 
as  ''  successful  expression  ".  In  the  age-long  struggle  for 
existence  the  unharmonious,  the  '  impossible  \  have  been 
always  weeded  out  before  they  took  firm  root  and  multiplied. 
The  monster  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  Meredith  put  it 
all  in  a  nutshell  when  he  said  "  Ugly  is  only  half  way  to  a 
thing ".  Nature  pronounces  her  verdict  on  ugliness  by 
eliminating  it.  Beauty  is  ISTature's  stamp  of  approval  on 
harmonious  viable  individuality,  and  just  as,  objectively, 
the  ugly  is  only  halfway  to  a  thing,  a  too  incomplete  ex- 
pression, so  is  it  subjectively.  As  Professor  Bosanquet  puts 
it  (1915),  the  imagination  is  "  at  once  excited  in  a  particular 
direction  and  thwarted  in  it  ". 

But  there  is  another  side  to  it.  In  the  course  of  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  years  our  senses  have  become  attuned  to  the 
natural.  We  have  unconscious  or  conscious  standards  of 
line  and  colour,  of  sound  and  movement.  Just  as  a  discord 
may  break  a  precious  glass  vessel  by  setting  up  contradictory 
vibrations,  so  there  are  colour-schemes  that  almost  literally 
jar,  and  muddy  colours  that  are  as  painful  as  noises.  The 
big  result  remains,  that  the  combinations  of  lines  and  colours 


278  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

in  natural  individualities  are  such  that  they  evoke  in  us 
an  activity — a  disinterested  contemplative  activity — which, 
as  we  have  said;  is  almost  the  hest  of  us.  This  is  a  note- 
worthy correspondence. 

§  9.     Beauty  of  Animal  Artifice. 

When  we  pass  from  incorporated  or  incarnate  beauty  to 
that  of  artifice,  we  experience  a  delight  in  which  there  seems 
to  be  a  deeper  note  than  any  that  we  have  yet  sounded. 
When  we  study  the  nests  of  birds,  the  webs  of  spiders,  the 
architecture  of  the  termitary,  the  combs  of  bees,  the  work 
of  tube-building  worms,  the  arenaceous  encasements  of  some 
Foraminifera,  we  recognise  skill  in  the  use  of  materials,  or 
selection  of  fit  and  congruent  materials,  or  a  triumphing  over 
material  difficulties,  or  an  expression  of  individuality  at  a 
level  almost  reaching  to  art.  Then  in  a  new  way  deep  calls 
to  deep,  we  have  a  sympathetic  joy  in  the  creature's  mas- 
tery of  its  materials,  in  its  circumvention  or  solution  of 
technical  difficulties.  We  enjoy  a  vicarious  victory  of 
mind  over  matter.  Let  us  consider  once  more  the  arena- 
ceous Forminifera,  organless,  tissueless  creatures,  with 
little  visible  complexity.  When  a  Technitella  makes  for  it- 
self an  encasement  of  minute  Echinoderm  plates,  when  an- 
other species  makes  a  two-layered  warp  and  woof  of  sponge 
spicules,  when  a  Reophax  makes  a  chain-armour  of  mica 
platelets  cemented  at  their  margin  with  chitin,  when  a 
Marsipella  twists  its  borrowed  sponge  spicules  in  a  spiral — 
probably  anticipating  the  prehistoric  genius  who  invented 
string,  we  venture  to  think  that  in  such  moments  of  en- 
deavour and  adventure  in  dealing  with  inorganic  materials, 
artistic  consciousness  finds  its  first  glimmering  expression. 
We  have  argued  that  organisms  are  psycho-physical  individ- 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  279 

ualities,  and  perhaps  we  are  nearer  the  truth  in  saying  that 
Technitella  tho7npsoni  says  to  itself,  in  a  quiet  way  of  its 
own,  ^'  Anch'  io  sono  pittore  " — '^  I  also  am  an  artist ",  than 
in  supposing  that  its  beautiful  architecture  is  describable  in 
terms  of  surface-tension.  Perhaps  an  intermediate  view  is 
truer  still. 

The  artist  knows  of  the  emotion  that  rewards  formative 
achievement,  and  we  have  ventured  the  suggestion  that  part 
of  the  ordinary  man's  enjoyment  in  a  beautiful  work  of  ani- 
mal artifice  (or,  secondarily,  in  a  beautiful  organism  itself) 
is  a  sympathetic  sharing  in  the  triumphant  mastery  of  mate- 
rials. The  same  general  idea  we  have  found  in  more  devel- 
oped expression  in  a  lecture  by  Dr.  P.  Chalmers  Mitchell 
entitled  "  Science  and  Life  ".  From  this  we  would  quote 
a  few  sentences.  Speaking  not  of  ISTature  but  of  art,  he 
says :  "  I  do  not  doubt  but  that  the  creative  artist  is  a  supreme 
example  of  the  exuberant  will  of  conscious  life  to  absorb, 
comprehend,  transform  the  universe  into  itself,  and  that  the 
emotion  he  conveys  to  us  is  an  all-powerful  stimulus.  The 
form  that  he  has  created  is  significant,  not  because  it  is  a 
vision  of  abstract  relations,  or  of  reality,  or  of  truth,  but 
because  it  has  laid  hold  of  more  of  the  external  world,  recast 
it  in  categories  of  human  mind  and  the  human  senses " 
(p.  18).  "Esthetic  emotion  is  the  responsive  thrill  to 
creation  realised,  and  life,  seeing  the  image  of  its  own  power, 
knows  that  it  is  beautiful  "  (p.  21). 

§  10.     Evolution  of  /Esthetic  Emotion, 

In  his  Gifford  Lectures  (1915)  Mr.  Balfour  has  spoken 
of  the  absence  of  any  pedigree  for  aesthetic  emotions,  and 
has  suggested  that  all  that  evolutionists  can  do  is  to  regard 
them  as  chance  by-products.    Esthetic  emotions  have  opened 


280  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

to  Man  at  his  best  something  conveying  not  knowledge,  but 
an  intuition  that  was  greater  than  knowledge.  How  can 
this  be  if  the  aesthetic  emotions  are  but  the  refined  outcome 
of  primeval  distributions  of  matter  and  energy?  We  have 
tried  in  our  consideration  of  the  organism  to  take  the  edge 
off  such  arguments.  There  are  few  active  evolutionists  of 
the  present  day  who  are  committed  to  such  materialism. 
From  the  physical  abstractions  ^  matter  '  and  ^  energy '  it  is 
impossible  to  account  for  emotion,  yet  emotion  may  have 
evolved  in  psycho-physical  beings  such  as  it  seems  quite 
legitimate  to  postulate  as  the  first  organisms. 

Esthetic  emotion  is  a  very  subtle  feeling,  and  is  possibly 
peculiar  to  mankind,  yet  it  is  not  inconceivable  that  its  raw 
materials — up  to  the  level  perhaps  of  a  pleased  awareness 
of  specific  arrangements  of  certain  lines  and  colours  as  dis- 
tinguished from  others — may  be  detected  far  below  the 
human  plane  of  being.  Bower-birds  are  not,  of  course, 
among  man's  ancestors,  but  it  is  interesting  to  know  how 
the  males  decorate  their  sometimes  elaborate  courting  bowers 
with  brightly  coloured  pods  and  flowers  and  shells.  We  must 
remember  that  low  down  in  the  kingdom  of  the  unicellulars, 
as  we  have  seen,  animals  select  material  to  work  with  and 
handle  it  without  hands  dexterously,  and  it  does  not  seem 
far-fetched  to  suppose  that  the  creature  has  a  dim  pleasure 
in  its  work.  We  find  similar  artificers  at  various  levels  in 
the  animal  hierarchy,  and  the  thrill  accompanying  success- 
ful formative  endeavour  will  probably  strengthen  and  deepen 
with  the  degree  of  general  differentiation  and  integration. 
From  enjoyment  of  one's  ovni  achievement  it  is  possible  to 
pass  to  an  appreciation  of  that  of  others,  and  in  the  fact 
that  some  birds  will  appropriate  characteristic  phrases  of 
song  from  others  we  have  a  hint  of  admiration.     It  is  too 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  .  281 

soon  to  close  the  door  on  inquiry  into  the  evolution  of  aBsthetic 
emotion. 

We  have  to  remember  also  that  from  time  to  time  value 
has  been  given  to  the  beautiful  by  linking  it  to  love.  Shapes, 
patterns,  colours,  lights,  fragrance,  movements,  perhaps  orig- 
inating for  constitutional  reasons,  as  decorative  exuberances 
arise  even  in  complete  darkness,  come  to  be  seized  upon  by 
selection  and  brought  into  the  service  of  preferential  mating. 
To  this  difficult  subject  we  shall  return  in  Chapter  XIV. 
We  simply  refer  to  it  now  because  it  suggests  one  of  the 
ways  in  which  interest  in  the  beautiful  might  have  been  cul- 
tivated historically  in  pre-human  days. 

Another  point  worthy  perhaps  of  consideration  is  that 
aesthetic  emotion  is  its  own  evolutionary  reward,  since  the 
feeling  has  a  quite  noteworthy  unifying  value  in  the  develop- 
ment of  personality,  and  in  its  communicability  has  been, 
especially  in  music,  an  important  socialising  factor.  This 
idea  has  been  elaborated  in  the  work  of  Guyau — that  enthu- 
siastic evolutionist  philosopher — who  recognised  the  impor- 
tance of  the  Beautiful  and  of  Art  in  adding  social  sympathy 
to  social  synergy.  A  common  admiration  and  delight  helps 
to  produce  a  community  of  feeling  and  sentiment. 

To  speak  of  the  evolutionary  value  of  being  pleased  with 
beautiful  things  does  not  involve  the  heresy  of  suggesting 
that  we  like  beautiful  things  because  of  an  ulterior  reward. 
The  delight  is  its  own  reward.  But  there  is  no  real  difficulty 
here,  for  an  activity,  like  play,  which  is  exercised  for  its 
own  sake,  may  none  the  less  have  survival  value.  Beyond 
and  deeper  than  this  utilitarian  interpretation,  however, 
there  is  the  idea — difficult,  we  confess,  to  state — that  just 
as  a  beautiful  organic  ornament  seems  often  of  no  use  to 
its  possessor,  but  is  an  expression  of  a  harmonious  life,  so 


282  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

man's  joyous  drawing  towards  the  beautiful,  when  we  trace 
it  back  far  enough,  may  be  an  expression  of  the  same,  or 
of  a  harmony  further  back  stilh 

§  11.     The  Significance  of  the  Pervasive  Beauty  of  Animate 

Nature. 

The  recognition  of  the  pervasiveness  of  beauty  in  the  realm 
of  organisms  is  important.  First,  because  its  enjoyment  may 
mean  much  to  man — part  of  the  salt  of  life.  And  though 
its  enjoyment  may  not  be  brought  nearer  by  any  cold-blooded 
assertions  on  the  subject,  man  is  susceptible  to  indirect  edu- 
cation in  reference  to  the  beautiful  as  well  as  in  relation 
to  the  true  and  the  good.  Various  in£uences  which  may 
be  typified  by  Gilbert  White,  Wordsworth,  Ruskin,  Whit- 
man, and  Meredith  have  done  much  to  increase  appreciation. 
Second,  to  those  who  agree  with  our  position  that  the  scien- 
tific view  of  the  realm  of  organisms  is  not  exhaustive,  it 
will  not  seem  far-fetched  that  we  are  inclined  to  dwell  on 
the  fact  of  beauty,  regarding  aesthetic  emotion  as  another 
right-of-way  path  towards  reality.  It  is  thus  that  the  beauti- 
ful has  been  thought  of  by  many  philosophers,  such  as 
Schiller  and  Schelling,  "  not  as  a  casual  and  fanciful  at- 
tribute of  certain  things  or  mental  states,  but  as  an  inde- 
pendent revelation  of  the  essence  of  reality  of  the  truly 
real"  (Merz,  1914,  p.  25).  Their  suggestion  is  that  the 
beautiful  in  Nature  may  be  a  key  to  her  deeper  significance. 
As  Lotze  put  it,  '^  It  was  of  high  value  to  look  upon  beauty, 
not  as  a  stranger  in  the  world,  not  as  a  casual  aspect  afforded 
by  some  phenomena  under  accidental  conditions,  but  as  the 
fortunate  revelation  of  that  principle  which  permeates  all 
reality  with  its  living  activity "  (quoted  by  Merz,  1914, 
p.  25).     Third,  in  reference  to  the  triad  of  human  ideals — 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  283 

the  True,  the  Beautiful,  and  the  Good — is  there  not  signifi- 
cance in  the  correspondence  that  obtains  between  these  and 
what  we  find  in  nature?  To  the  ideal  of  the  true  there 
corresponds,  perhaps,  the  rational  orderliness  and  harmoni- 
ous consistency  of  Nature,  but  rather,  we  should  say,  the 
reward  of  those  organisms  which  face  the  facts  effectively 
with  the  clear-headedness  of  vigorous  health.  To  the  ideal  of 
the  good  there  corresponds  the  extraordinary  subordination 
of  self  to  species  which  is  so  characteristic  of  organisms.  To 
the  ideal  of  the  beautiful  there  corresponds  the  richness  of 
the  realm  of  organisms  where  ugliness  is  banned. 

SUMMARY. 

In  an  endeavour  to  indicate  what  contribution  Natural  Science  has 
to  make  to  our  general  view  of  the  world,  it  is  impossible  to  pass 
over  the  pervasiveness  of  beauty  in  the  realm  of  organisms.  Scien- 
tific investigation  has  disclosed  it  in  the  microscopically  minute,  in 
internal  structure,  in  the  well-concealed — everywhere. 

We  mean  by  the  beautiful  that  which  excites  in  us  the  distinctive 
kind  of  emotion  called  aesthetic,  the  characteristic  qualities  of 
which,  such  as  duration  without  satiety,  communicability,  and  detach- 
edness  from  utility,  have  been  much  discussed  by  experts.  What 
concerns  us  in  this  study  is  the  interesting  fact  that  all  natural, 
free-living,  fully-formed,  healthy  living  creatures,  which  we  can 
contemplate  without  prejudice,  are  in  their  appropriate  surroundings 
artistic  harmonies — a  joy  to  behold. 

This  thesis  may  be  objected  to  on  various  grounds — that  beauty 
is  wholly  in  our  minds,  that  our  likes  and  dislikes  are  wholly  due 
to  individual  and  racial  nurture,  that  there  is  no  agreement  as  to 
what  is  beautiful;  but  it  seems  possible  to  meet  these  objections. 
Another  series  of  objections,  however,  consists  of  evidence  that 
the  realm  of  organisms  is  spotted  with  ugliness;  and  to  meet  these 
it  is  necessary  to  emphasise  the  saving-clauses  of  our  thesis,  that 
it  docs  not  apply  to  the  domesticated  and  cultivated,  the  diseased  or 
crippled,  the  unfinished,  the  parasitic,  and  the  freakish.  Moreover, 
the  artistic  harmony  is  often  obscure  till  the  creature  is  seen  in  its 
native  haunts — a  fact  of  special  importance  when  these  are  of  its 
own  choosing. 


284  THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY 

In  our  aesthetic  emotion  there  is  a  physiological  factor  of  sensory 
thrill.  Pleasant  eurhythmic  processes  are  set  up  within  us, — a 
bodily  resonance.  But  it  is  a  thoroughly  mind-and-body  or  organ- 
israal  feeling.  There  is  a  psychological  factor  or  perceptual  re- 
sponse. We  project  ourselves  into  the  object  whose  ^  f orm '  (in 
the  widest  sense)  is  significant  for  us  and  embodies  our  feeling. 
We  cannot,  except  abstractly,  separate  off  *  mere  sensation '  or 
'  pure  perception  ' — it  is  the  whole  organism's  concern — and  it 
seems  very  difficult  to  dissociate  from  our  agsthetic  delight  the  in- 
fluence of  certain  concepts.  Thus  the  physiologist,  Sir  John  Bur- 
don  Sanderson,  maintained  that  an  appreciation  of  adaptiveness 
bulks  largely  in  our  aesthetic  enjoyment  of  animal  form  and  struc- 
ture. Similarly,  symbolism  may  contnbute  its  inextricable  influence; 
or  we  may  discern  the  touch  of  the  Divine  Artist. 

The  elements  that  make  up  the  impression  we  call  visual  beauty 
are  arrangements  and  combinations  of  lines  and  colours,  and  a 
pre-condition  of  the  beautiful  is  some  quality  of  satisfactoriness  in 
this  pattern.  In  the  case  of  animals,  and  somewhat  apart,  pleasing 
movements  may  be  added  to  the  presentation.  But  the  big  fact 
is  that  the  stamp  or  halo  of  beauty  is  on  every  free  individuality, 
and  if  the  straight  lines  and  the  curves,  the  patterns,  the  colours, 
and  the  apportionment  of  the  colours  be  expressions  of  normal  vital 
processes,  and  so  with  rhythmic  movements,  it  becomes  easier  to 
understand  why  they  should  appeal  in  a  pleasant  way  to  whole- 
some sensoria  with  the  requisite  freedom  of  response. 

The  question  inevitably  arises  whether  these  combinations  of 
lines  and  colours — which  mean  so  much  to  us — mean  anything  to 
their  possessors. 

(a)  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  *  beauty '  has  in  some  cases  direct 
utility  to  the  organism.  For  beauty  of  pattern  often  spells  stable 
architecture,  beauty  of  line  is  often  the  expression  of  strength  and 
agility,  and  beauty  of  colouring  often  means  a  life-saving  garment 
of  invisibility.    And  there  are  other  uses. 

(b)  In  many  cases  the  *  beauty'  has  vital  significance  though 
it  cannot  be  called  in  itself  useful.  Thus  a  pleasing  succession 
of  concentric  lines  may  represent  the  ripple-marks  of  orderly  rhyth- 
mic growth. 

(c)  In  many  cases,  however,  the  beautiful  seems  to  be  accessory, 
without  utility  either  direct  or  indirect.  The  lines  and  colours  are 
harmonious,  probably  because  they  are  the  expressions  of  unified 
viable    individualities   which    have    stood    the   test    of   time.      The 


THE  FACT  OF  BEAUTY  285 

monster  is  a  contradiction   in   terms  and   is   fortliwith  eliminated. 
"  Ugly  is  only  half  way  to  a  thing." 

Passing  from  incarnate  beauty  to  that  of  animal  artificers — in 
encasement  and  web,  in  bower  and  nest — we  recognise  precise  selec- 
tion of  material,  effective  use  of  it,  and,  it  may  be,  a  circumventmg 
or  mastery  of  technical  difficulties.  There  is  in  varying  degrees  an 
external  expression  of  the  individuality,  the  creature  creative. 

The  difficulty  of  scientifically  accounting  for  man's  *  sense  of 
beauty'  is  doubtless  great,  as  Mr.  Balfour  has  emphasised;  but 
this  kind  of  inquiry  is  young.  (1)  The  raw  materials  of  assthetic 
emotion  may  have  been  associated  with  successful  formative  en- 
deavour. (2)  It  is  well  known  that  interest  in  the  visually  and 
audibly  beautiful  has  been  from  time  to  time  closely  linked  to 
Move'.  (3)  Joyous  feeling  has  a  notable  unifying  influence  on 
the  development  both  of  personality  and  of  society.  And  there  are 
other  considerations. 

Perhaps  deepest  of  all  in  our  ?Esthetic  emotion  is  a  sympathetic 
sharing  in  every  triumph  of  *  life '  over  *  matter ',  in  every  abid- 
ing expression  and  extension  of  individuality.  Thus  Animate  Na- 
ture is  to  many  minds  much  more  significant  than  Scenery  and 
Precious  Stones, — commanding  as  their  beauty  is.  In  any  case, 
there  is  for  man  great  value  in  the  beauty  of  the  world  without. 
There  may  be  theoretical  exaggeration  in  Goethe's  saying :  "  Sym- 
pathy and  enjoyment  in  what  we  see  is  in  fact  the  only  reality  " — 
and  it  is  very  satisfying  in  itself,  as  reality  should  be;  but  there  is 
no  risk  of  practical  exaggeration,  for  the  consistent  discernment  and 
enjoyment  of  the  beautiful  cannot  be  attained  on  any  easier  terms 
than  consistent  discernment  and  enjoyment  of  the  True  and  the 
Good. 


1 


LECTURE  IX. 
THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE. 


LECTURE  IX. 
THE  ISSUES  OE  LIFE. 

§  1.  The  Tactics  of  Animute  Nature.  §  2.  The  Twofold  Business 
of  Life.  §  3.  The  Struggle  for  Existence.  §  4.  Correction  of 
Some  Misconceptions  of  the  Struggle  for  Existence.  §  5.  The 
Welfare  of  the  Species.    §  6.    As  regards  Warfare. 

§  1.    The  Tactics  of  Animate  Nature. 

If  we  share  Bacon's  belief  that  the  footprints  of  the 
Creator  are  imprinted  on  His  creatures,  we  cannot  but  be 
interested  in  inquiring  into  the  general  trend  of  organic 
activities.  What  is  all  the  bustle  about?  What  are  living 
creatures,  as  they  are,  immediately  working  towards?  If 
they  have  an  end  in  any  sense  in  view,  as  some  of  them 
have,  what  is  it  and  by  what  means  do  they  accomplish 
it?  Reality  has  been  spoken  of  as  "a  totality  of  striving 
and  willing  existence  ",  we  have  in  the  realm  of  organisms 
a  portion  of  this  reality,  and  we  are  bound  to  inquire  into 
the  fundamental  motives  of  the  striving  and  crying  that 
surround  us. 

Some  students  of  the  tactics  of  Animate  Nature  have 
discerned  in  them  little  to  admire  and  less  to  imitate.  To 
Huxley,  for  instance,  it  seemed  that  Nature's  tactics  are 
so  disappointing  that  Man's  best  rule  for  his  own  conduct 
is  to  try  to  do  the  direct  opposite  of  what  Nature  does. 
Others,  such  as  Prof.  Patrick  Geddes,  have  discerned  in 
Animate  Nature  a  materialised  ethical  process  worthy  of 
our  closest  attention  and  imitation.  Which  is  right  in  this 
case,   master   or   pupil?      Others,    again,    while   making   no 

289 


290  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

pronouncement,  have  deprecated  further  inquiry,  reminding 
one  of  people  who  are  nervous  as  to  the  manners  of  their 
poor  relations.  The  inquiry  is  interesting,  for  if  we  have 
made  the  great  assumption  that  the  system  of  lives  which 
■we  call  Animate  ]^ature  is  an  expression  of  something  more 
spiritual  and  abiding  than  itself  a  difficulty  will  arise  if 
the  tactics  are  those  of  "  a  dismal   cockpit ". 

Those  who  believe  that  Nature  is  (as  Prof,  William  James 
phrased  it)  "  the  external  staging  of  a  many-storied  universe, 
in  which  spiritual  forces  have  the  last  word  ",  will  have 
to  face  a  great  difficulty  if  what  is  often  reported  about 
Nature  be  even  approximately  true, — that  her  only  word  to 
man  is  ^'  Each  for  himself,  and  extinction  take  the  hind- 
most ".  We  turn  again  therefore  to  our  task  of  justifying 
the  ways  of  Nature  to  man  by  the  method  of  accurate  de- 
scription. 

In  inquiring  into  the  general  tactics  of  Animate  Nature, 
which  we  have  seen  to  be  pervaded  with  vitality,  with  men- 
tality, and  with  beauty,  we  must  avoid  two  extremes.  The 
one  focusses  attention  on  Move',  the  other  on  ^hunger'; 
the  one  emphasises  race-preserving,  the  other  self-preserving 
activities.  On  the  one  hand,  there  is  a  wealth  of  illustrations 
of  parental  care,  of  conjugal  devotion,  of  mutual  aid,  of 
loyalty  to  kin,  of  subordination  of  the  individual  to  the 
life  of  the  herd  or  hive, — in  short,  of  '  altruistic  behaviour  ', 
if  we  can  use  the  term  in  inverted  commas  to  indicate  that 
it  is  below  the  level  of  strictly  ethical  conduct. 

The  other  extreme  is  appalled  by  the  daemonic  element  in 
Nature,  the  non-moral  callousness,  the  wastefulness,  the  ruth- 
lessness,  the  egoism,  the  mere  ^weather'.  It  is  well  ex- 
pressed in  William  James's  famous  essay  7s  Life  Worth  Liv- 
ing?     "Visible   nature,"   he   says,    ''is    all    plasticity   and 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  291 

indifference, — a  moral  multiverse,  as  one  might  call  it,  and 
not  a  moral  universe.  To  such  a  harlot  we  owe  no  allegiance ; 
with  her  as  a  whole  we  can  establish  no  moral  communion  ■' 
(1905,  p.  43).  "  Beauty  and  hideousness,  love  and  cru- 
elty, life  and  death  keep  house  together  in  indissoluble 
partnership;  and  there  gradually  steals  over  us,  instead  of 
the  old  warm  notion  of  a  man-loving  Deity,  that  of  an  awful 
power  that  neither  hates  nor  loves,  but  rolls  all  things  to- 
gether meaninglessly  to  a  common  doom  "  (1905,  p.  41). 

Now  there  is  a  via  media  between  these  two  extreme 
views,  and  it  is  the  path  of  accuracy.  On  the  one  hand, 
we  must  not  pick  and  choose  our  facts,  selecting  those  which 
suit  our  thesis  and  ignoring  the  discordant.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  must  not  be  gratuitously  anthropomorphic,  project- 
ing upon  Nature  concepts  drawn  from  human  society  which 
very  imperfectly  fit.  We  must  also  guard  against  allowing 
human  sentiments,  as  to  supposed  cruelty  and  the  like,  to 
lead  us  astray  in  domains  where  they  are  irrelevant.  We 
must  be  restrained  and  critical  in  the  degree  to  which  we 
read  ethical  content  into  animal  behaviour, — especially  when 
it  is  of  the  instinctive  type. 

§  2.    The  Twofold  Business  of  Life. 

As  we  contemplate  the  drama  of  life  among  plants  and 
animals,  both  as  we  can  see  it  around  us  with  our  eyes, 
and  as  we  can  see  it  with  the  help  of  telephotic  apparatus 
(such  as  the  microscope  and  the  pal^eontological  museum!), 
we  discern  one  perennial  problem  and  endeavour,  namely  to 
adjust  relations  between  the  active,  self-assertive,  insistent, 
insurgent  organism  and  the  environment.  The  inorganic 
environment  is  callous,  irresponsive,  heavy-handed,  yet  re- 
markably amenable  to  life's  purposes;  the  organic  environ- 


292  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

ment  is  capricious,  iinpreclictablo,  comLative.     On  tlie  one 
hand,  we  see  the  Environment  acting  upon   the  organism, 
burning  it  and  stoking  it,  heating  it  and  cooling  it,  quicken- 
ing it  and  slowing  it,  moistening  it  and  drying  it,  provoking 
it  and  quieting  it,  nurturing  it  and  killing  it,  cradling  it 
and  burying  it.     On  the  other  hand,  we  see  the  Organism 
responding  to  the  environment,  operating  on  it,  changing  it; 
thrusting  as  well  as  parrying;  defying  it,  mastering  it,  and 
using  it;  even  selecting  it.     Now  the  business  of  life  is  the 
continual  adjustment  of  this  twofold  relation.     But  when 
we  look  more  closely  into  the  effective,  regulated,  self-asser- 
tive, self-expressive,  insurgent  activity  which  we  call  '  life  ', 
we  see  that  it  takes  two  main  directions — caring  for  self 
and  caring  for  others.     That  is  the  twofold  business  of  life 
which  all  pursue, — the  half-awake  plant,  the  dreamy  coral, 
the  instinctive  ant,  the  intelligent  beaver,  and  rational  man. 
The  imperious  primal  impulses  are  ^  Hunger  '  and  '  Love  \ 
the  subject  and  counter-subject  of  the  great  fugue  of  life. 
'^  Why   do   the   people   strive   and    cry  ? "    the    poet   asked, 
and  gave  the  lasting  answer :   "  They  will  have  food   and 
they  will   have  children,   and   they  will  bring  them   up  as 
best  they  can."     So  is  it  through  the  realm  of  organisms. 
Of  course  the  words  '  hunger '  and  ^  love  '  must  not  be  used 
woodenly;  they  correspond  to  self-preservation  and  race-con- 
tinuance, to  self-regarding  and  other-regarding,  to  feeding 
and  flowering,  to  nutrition  and  reproduction,  to  self-increase 
and  self-multiplication.     We  may  not  be  inclined  to  speak 
as  Erasmus  Darwin  did  of  the  '"''  Loves  of  the  Plants  " ,  but 
it  is  sound  science  to  emphasise  the  fact  that,  rich  as  plants 
are  in  adaptations  which  secure  food,  they  are  not  less  rich 
in  adaptations  which  secure  the  nurture  and  dispersal  and 
development  of  their  offspring. 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  293 

In  their  endeavours  to  secure  self-preservation  and  race- 
continuance,  organisms  exhibit  an  efiectiveness,  a  persist- 
ence, a  resourcefulness,  and  a  finesse  that  is  worthy  of  all 
admiration.  But  the  shadow  on  the  picture  is  the  supposed 
Ishmaelitish  character  of  the  struggle  for  existence, — the 
shadow  of  what  Huxley  called  "  the  huge  gladiatorial  show  ". 
Sometimes,  too,  there  is  an  occurrence  of  what  looks  like 
sheer  devilry. 

§  3.    The  Struggle  for  Existence, 

One  of  the  great  facts  of  life,  beyond  all  doubt,  is  that 
summed  up  by  Darwin  as  ^'  the  struggle  for  existence ". 
Nothing  is  more  familiar,  and  yet  the  concept  lacks  precise 
definition  and  is  the  subject  of  lamentable  misunderstanding. 
The  phrase,  as  Darwin  said,  was  to  be  used  ^'  in  a  large 
and  metaphorical  sense,  including  dependence  of  one  being 
on  another,  and  including  (which  is  more  important)  not 
only  the  life  of  the  individual,  but  success  in  leaving  prog- 
eny "  (Origin  of  Species,  p.  50).  This  does  not  coincide 
with  the  view  of  some  naturalists  that  the  struggle  for  ex- 
istence means  nothing  more  nor  less  than  life-and-death 
competition  between  individuals  of  the  same  kith  and  kin. 
If  that  had  been  Darwin's  meaning,  he  would  not  have  spoken 
of  using  the  term  ^'  in  a  large  and  metaphorical  sense  ",  nor 
would  he  have  spoken  of  the  difficulty  he  felt  in  constantly 
bearing  the  conclusion  in  mind.  We  have  to  be  especially 
careful  since  the  idea  of  the  struggle,  for  existence  was 
confessedly  taken  over  from  human  life.  It  was  consciously 
suggested  to  Darwin  by  reading  Malthus;  it  was  subcon- 
sciously suggested  by  the  keen  industrial  competition,  more 
striking,  because  more  novel  and  less  regulated,  in  Darwin's 
day  than  ours. 


294  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

It  is  clearest  to  start  with  the  familiar  fact  of  observation 
that  the  life  of  organisms  is  seldom  an  easy  affair.  The 
living  creature  is  by  its  very  nature  insurgent  and  it  finds 
itself  encompassed  by  limitations  and  difficulties.  As  Spi- 
noza maintained,  every  individual  thing,  so  far  as  in  it  lies, 
endeavours  to  persist  in  its  own  being.  How  much  more 
a  living  agent,  that  eats  into  its  environment,  that  grows 
and  stores  and  multiplies  its  kind !  The  vigorous  creature 
is  ever  hustling  and  jostling  in  its  will  to  live.  Now,  as 
every  one  knows,  this  insurgence  of  life  meets  three  main 
difficulties,  and  the  struggle  for  existence  in  the  strict  sense 
is  the  reacting  clash. 

The  first  difficulty  is  in  the  tendency  to  over-population. 
One  weed  could  cover  the  earth  in  three  years,  one  codfish 
could  soon  fill  up  the  vastness  of  the  sea,  and  one  fly  could 
soon  shut  out  the  sun.     This  tendency  to  overwhelming  abun- 
dance limits   the  foothold   and   food-supply  of  the   prolific 
organisms  and  of  others  in  the  same  area ;  there  are  indi- 
vidual reactions  against  the  limitations,  and  these  constitute 
the  struggle  for  existence  which  soon  counteracts  one  of  its 
o\Yn  causes.     A  second  difficulty  follows  from  the  pattern  of 
the  web  of  life,  that  is  to  say,  from  the  nutritive  inter-rela- 
tions that  have  in  the  course  of  time  been  established.    Plants 
have  banked  for  animals,  which  draw  on  them.     The  higher 
animals  devour  the  lower,  and  Nature  is  run  on  a  plan  of 
successive  reincarnations.     This  conjugation  of  the  verb  to 
eat  involves  difficulties,   and  leads  to  the  struggle  for  ex- 
istence.    A  third  limitation  is  the  irregular  changefulness 
of  the  physical  environment. 

None  of  the  reasons  which  we  have  just  recalled  can  be 
said  to  necessitate  the  struggle  for  existence.  (1)  There 
might  have  been  a  flood-bed  for  the  teeming  river  of  life, 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  295 

and  we  know  in  point  of  fact  that  incalculable  myriads  of 
minute  creatures  flourish  in  the  open  sea  without  over- 
crowding. Moreover,  the  length  of  an  organism's  life  is 
adjustable,  and  can  be  regulated  in  relation  to  the  rate  of 
increase.  (2)  It  is  conceivable  that  all  animals  might  have 
been  vegetarian  and  debris-eaters.  To  a  much  greater  degree 
than  was  previously  supposed  the  animals  of  the  sea-floor 
depend  upon  detritus,  the  crumbs  of  the  littoral  table.  Or 
much  more  might  have  been  made  of  symbiotic  partnerships 
between  animals  and  plants, — so  extraordinarily  successful 
in  cases  like  Radiolarians,  of  which  some  authorities  say 
that  there  are  five  thousand  species.  (3)  There  is  no  neces- 
sity that  life  should  be  continually  vexed  by  environmental 
vicissitudes,  for  there  are  monotonous  conditions  in  which 
it  flourishes  bravely.  We  know,  for  instance,  of  the  rich 
fauna  of  the  great  oceanic  abysses — that  strange,  dark,  cold, 
calm,  silent,  plantless  world  where  there  is  neither  day  nor 
night,  neither  summer  nor  winter,  but  eternal  monotony. 
We  see,  then,  that  the  struggle  for  existence  is  not  an  in- 
evitable consequence  of  the  conditions  of  life.  In  fact,  it 
is  often  evaded.  Reduction  of  the  number  of  offspring  is 
an  evasion  of  the  difficulty  of  finding  foothold  in  crowded 
areas;  change  of  diet,  e.g.,  to  vegetarianism,  evades  the 
necessity  for  cannibalism;  and  migration  often  evades  the 
thrusts  and  arrows  of  an  unfriendly  environment.  The  true 
inwardness  of  the  struggle  for  existence  is  discerned  when 
we  fix  our  attention  not  only  on  the  limitations  and  difficul- 
ties, but  on  the  self-assertiveness  and  insurgence  of  the  crea- 
ture, which  insists  on  having  its  own  way. 

A  second  point  is  that  the  struggle  for  existence  is  not 
synonymous  with  great  mortality.  That  may  be  a  problem 
in  itself,  but  it  is  not  the  problem  of  the  struggle  for  exist- 


296  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

ence.     When  an  avalanche  or  a  landslip,  on  any  scale  we 
please,  or  a  sudden  fall  of  temperature,  or  a  great  drought, 
or  any  catastrophe  wipes  out  whole  regiments  of  living  crea- 
tures, the  struggle  for  existence  is  not  illustrated,  for  the 
essential  idea  in  the  concept  of  struggle  is  that  the  living 
individual  answers  back.     When  on  the  summer  evening  the 
mayflies  rise  like  a  living  mist  from  the  quiet  reaches  of 
the  river,  and  in  some  cases  end  their  ephemeral  aerial  life 
before  the  twilight  is  past,  there  is  assuredly  great  mortality, 
but  there  is  not  in  the  dying  any   struggle  for  existence. 
They  die  off  in  the  crisis  of  giving  origin  to  the  next  gener- 
ation, and  as  they  may  have  spent  two  or  three  years  of 
larval  sub-aquatic  life  they  may  be  at  their  death  quite  old 
as  insects  count  age.     Similarly,  when  the  baleen  whale  rush- 
ing through  the  waves  engulfs  myriads  of  sea-butterflies  in 
the   huge   cavern   of   its    mouth,    there   is   great   mortality, 
but    no    struggle    for    existence.      ISTor    is    there    when    the 
squirrel  has  a  meal  of  beech-nuts,  each  of  them  a  young 
life. 

The  essential  idea,  often  missed,  is  that  the  struggle  for 
existence  is  the  dash  between  life  and  its  limitations,  when 
life  insists  on  its  rights  and  answers  back.  When  organisms 
react  to  their  limitations  and  difiiculties,  when  they  do  not 
meet  these  passively,  but  thrust  and  parry,  experiment  and 
actively  evade,  and  in  a  hundred  ways  say  "  We  will  live  ", 
— there  is  the  struggle  for  existence.  The  essence  of  the 
struggle  is  the  endeavour  after  well-being. 

Another  point,  somewhat  difficult  at  first  sight,  is  that 
inter-specific  struggle  for  existence  is  not  illustrated  when 
all  the  members  of  a  species  meet  a  difficulty  by  the  same 
adaptive  response,  the  capacity  for  which  is  now  ingrained 
in  their  constitution.     Thus  many  species  offer  interesting 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  297 

solutions  of  the  problem  of  meeting  the  winter;  the  brown 
stoats,  for  instance,  by  becoming  white  ermine.  But  nowa- 
days the  stoats  cannot  help  changing  their  robe;  in  the  same 
locality  they  all  do  it  equally  well ;  the  ingrained  capacity 
is  the  indirect  outcome  of  the  struggle  for  existence  in  the 
distant  past;  the  stoat's  present-day  struggle  for  existence 
is  to  be  found  elsewhere.  Inter-specific  struggle  for  existence 
implies  individual  and  novel  reactions  and  responses  to  en- 
vironing difficulties  and  limitations.  As  we  understand  it, 
inter-specific  struggle  for  existence  cannot  be  illustrated  in 
regard  to  adaptations  shared  equally  by  all  the  members, 
but  it  may  be  illustrated  if  there  are  inequalities  in  these 
adaptations,  or  in  the  way  they  are  used,  or  in  individual 
adjustments. 

It  should  also  be  noted  that  it  is  a  confusion  of  thought 
to  identify  the  struggle  for  existence  with  Natural  Selection. 
The  concept  of  struggle  is  wider  than  that  of  selection.  The 
struggle  for  existence  is  to  be  found  in  the  reactions  between 
organisms  and  their  environing  limitations,  which  may  in- 
clude, of  course,  the  presence  or  antagonism  of  other  organ- 
isms. When  inequalities  or  idiosyncrasies  in  the  reactions 
or  responses  are  of  life-saving  importance  the  result  is  dis- 
criminate elimination  and  the  survival  of  the  relatively  fitter 
to  the  given  conditions.  But  in  many  cases  the  result  of 
the  struggle  for  existence  is  not  discriminate  elimination. 
There  may  be  nothing  more  than  a  lessening  of  population- 
pressure  by  a  large  reduction  of  numbers.  And  even  when 
discriminate  elimination  does  occur,  it  may  work  as  slowly 
as  the  mills  of  God.  Some  writers  speak  as  if  a  decision 
was  always  given  there  and  then.  But  that  is  a  misunder- 
standing. The  elimination  may  take  the  form  of  gently 
handicapping  those  who  lack  w^hat  others  have, — handicap- 


298  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

ping  them  so  that  they  have  a  rather  shorter  life  or  a  rather 
less  numerous  or  less  successful  family.  This  is  precisely 
what  eugenists  of  the  gentler  persuasion  wish  to  see  in  opera- 
tion in  mankind — the  replacement  rather  than  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  baser  sort. 

As  is  well  known,  the  struggle  for  existence  takes  three 
main  forms: — (a)  between  fellow-organisms  of  the  same 
kith  and  kin,  (h)  between  foes  of  entirely  different  kinds, 
and  (c)  between  living  creatures  and  the  physical  fates. 

In  regard  to  the  first,  Darwin  headed  a  paragraph  "  Strug- 
gle for  Life  Most  Severe  Between  Individuals  and  Varieties 
of  the  Same  Species ",  and  that  paragraph,  along  with  a 
subconscious  desire  to  get  a  theoretical  backing  for  individu- 
alistic human  practices,  has  given  rise  to  the  widespread  idea 
that  what  is  most  characteristic  of  Nature  is  an  internecine 
competition  of  near  kin  for  food  and  foothold. 

But  it  is  very  profitable  to  examine  Darwin's  evidence 
for  his  momentous  conclusion.  'Not  that  we  doubt  that  keen 
competition  between  fellows  is  one  mode  of  the  struggle  for 
existence;  the  point  is  to  what  extent  it  obtains.  The  gladia- 
torial show  conception  of  Animate  ^Nature  is  illustrated  by 
the  supposed  internecine  competition  between  brown  rat  and 
black  rat,  and  might  almost  be  called  the  rat  theory  of  life. 
The  story  of  this  internecine  competition,  for  which  Darwin 
is  largely  responsible,  is  well  known,  but  it  suffers  from 
the  demerit  of  not  being  quite  true.  Long  ago  Britain  had 
only  the  Black  Rat  (Mus  rattus)  which  probably  came  from 
Asia  through  Mediterranean  ports.  It  seems  to  have  been 
introduced  into  Western  Europe  by  the  ships  of  the 
Crusaders.  The  Brown  Bat  {Mus  decumanus)^  also  of  East- 
ern origin,  was  a  later  arrival,  becoming  common  in  the  early 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century. 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  299 

'Now  the  story  which  had  till  recently  all  the  expert 
authority  behind  it,  is  that  the  larger,  stronger,  fiercer  Brown 
Rat  killed  off  the  Black  Rat  everywhere,  and  by  competition 
to  the  death  took  its  place.  But  the  account  of  the  matter 
given  by  Dr.  Chalmers  Mitchell  is  very  different.  The  Black 
Rat  is  far  from  being  extinct  in  Britain ;  it  is  wild  and  shy, 
much  more  active  than  the  Brown  Rat ;  it  is  the  typical 
barn  and  granary  rat.  The  Brown  Rat  is  more  of  an  out- 
door creature,  though  the  haunter  of  sewers  and  drains,  to 
the  great  extension  of  which  it  probably  owes  a  considerable 
part  of  its  success. 

Let  us  allow  that  the  ranks  of  the  Black  Rat  have  been 
increased  by  fresh  imports ;  let  us  allow  that  it  once  was 
the  ^  common  rat '  and  is  so  no  longer ;  let  us  even  allow 
that  if  representatives  of  the  tw^o  species  are  shut  up  in  a 
cage  together  (a  condition  of  which  there  are  few  counter- 
parts in  nature!)  the  brown  rats  will  kill  the  blacks;  yet 
the  edge  has  been  taken  off  Darwin's  famous  illustration, — 
the  best  piece  of  evidence  he  adduced  in  support  of  his  thesis. 
As  Dr.  Chalmers  Mitchell  says,  "  In  this  story  of  the  rats, 
which  has  been  very  carefully  investigated,  there  is  no  trace 
of  a  process  comparable  with  the  German  theory  of  war 
as  an  instance  of  the  struggle  for  existence.  .  .  .  Each 
species  has  its  different  aptitudes,  capacities,  and  prefer- 
ences, and  each  insinuates  itself  into  the  most  suitable  en- 
vironment"  (1915,  p.  30).  The  internecine  competition 
has  not  taken  place.     A  compromise  was  effected. 

The  second  form  of  the  struggle  for  existence  is  between 
animate  foes  of  entirely  different  kinds,  between  herbivore 
and  carnivore,  between  birds  of  prey  and  small  mammals, 
between  the  grass  and  the  other  plants  of  the  meadow,  be- 
tween  the   thorns   and   the   seedlings   in   the   stony   ground. 


300  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

Here  the  competition  is  sometimes  keen,  but  sometimes  a 
very  one-sided  affair. 

The  third  form  of  the  struggle  for  existence  is  between 
living  creatures  and  the  callous  and  changeful  physical  en- 
vironment. Thus  Darwin  spoke  of  the  struggle  of  the  plant 
at  the  edge  of  the  desert,  and  one  thinks  of  reactions  of 
animals  against  the  winter's  cold,  and  so  on.  This  is  obvi- 
ously non-competitive ;  it  is  crossing  swords  with  Fate. 

So  we  see  that  in  the  struggle  for  existence  between  or- 
ganisms and  the  inorganic  environment,  the  element  of  direct 
competition  is  always  absent;  in  that  between  organisms  of 
entirely  different  kinds  whose  interests  conflict  it  is  often 
absent;  and  even  in  the  struggle  between  members  of  the 
same  kith  and  kin  the  supposed  state  of  internecine  warfare 
is  often  conspicuous  by  its  absence.  The  furious  battles 
between  different  kinds  of  ants,  and  between  disorganised 
hives  of  bees,  and  between  true  ants  and  white  ants,  are 
among  the  few  phenomena  in  the  animal  world  that  suggest 
human  warfare. 

It  may  be  said  that  this  is  surely  cutting  at  the  roots  of 
Darwinism  (!N"atural  Selectionism)  to  deny  that  fellows  of 
the  same  kith  and  kin  are  sifted  inter  se,  but  we  make  no 
such  denial.  Our  doubt  is  as  to  whether  the  sifting  is  often 
effected  by  internecine  intra-specific  competition.  Individ- 
uals possessing  an  advantageous  variation  which  enables 
them  to  meet  difficulties  successfully  are  favoured  by  l^atu- 
ral  Selection,  as  the  phrase  has  it;  our  point  Is  that  their 
success  does  not  necessarily  depend  on  any  warfare  or  com- 
petition with  their  fellows.  When  a  plague  enters  a  house- 
hold and  only  one  member  survives,  he  does  so  because  his 
constitution  successfully  parried  the  microbe,  not  by  any 
competition  with  his  brothers  and  sisters.     When  the  last 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  301 

rabbit  in  the  scamper  towards  the  warren  is  caught  by  the 
fox,  his  elimination  is  not  the  result  of  there  being  others 
of  his  kind  who  are  more  alert  and  agile.  The  barbarous 
proverb  Lupus  lupo  lupus  was  invented  by  Man  as  an  excuse 
for  his  own  unnatural  behaviour,  and  there  is  much  better 
biology  in  Kipling's  Jungle  Books. 

§  4.     Correction  of  Some  Misconceptions  of  the   Struggle 

for  Existence. 

A  number  of  attempts  have  been  made  to  correct  the  idea 
w^hich  has  taken  such  firm  hold  of  men's  minds  that  Nature 
is  in  a  state  of  ceaseless  warfare  and  that  there  is  especially 
frightful  competition  for  food  and  foothold  among  the  mem- 
bers of  the  same  species.  Thus  Herbert  Spencer  was  clearly 
of  opinion  that  the  purely  self-seeking  animal  is  a  fiction. 
"  Self-sacrifice  is  no  less  primordial  than  self-preservation." 
"  From  the  dawn  of  life,  altruism  has  been  no  less  essential 
than  egoism." 

Darwin  himself  in  The  Descent  of  Man  showed  that  in 
many  animal  societies  the  struggle  between  individuals  dis- 
appears, being  replaced  by  co-operation.  Survival  is  not 
restricted  to  the  strongest,  but  may  reward  those  that  give 
the  best  send-ofP  to  their  offspring  or  excel  in  self-subordina- 
tion and  mutual  support.  '^  Those  communities,"  he  wrote 
(Descent  of  Man,  2nd  Ed.,  p.  163),  'Svhich  included  the 
greatest  number  of  the  most  sympathetic  members  would 
flourish  best,  and  rear  the  greatest  number  of  offspring." 
It  should  be  remembered,  too,  that  one  of  the  tasks  which 
Darwin  proposed  for  himself,  but  did  not  accomplish,  was 
an  inquiry  into  the  natural  checks  to  over-multiplication. 

Kessler,    a   Russian   zoologist,   brought   forward   evidence 
in  support  of  the  thesis  that  "  in  the  evolution  of  the  organic 


302  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

world — in  the  progressive  modification  of  organic  beings — 
mutual  support  among  individuals  plays  a  much  more  im- 
portant part  than  their  mutual  struggle  ".  Prof.  Patrick 
Geddes  also  argued  that  the  popular  version  of  the  Darwinian 
picture  had  become  distorted  into  falseness,  and  advanced 
illustrations  of  the  evolutionary  role  of  other-regarding  as 
opposed  to  self-gratifying  activities,  and  of  the  survival- 
value  of  subordinating  the  self  to  the  species.  Prof.  Henry 
Drummond  in  his  Lowell  Lectures  gave  an  eloquent  expo- 
sition of  the  importance  of  the  struggle  for  others  as  con- 
trasted with  the  struggle  for  self.  Best  of  all,  because  most 
concrete,  were  Prince  Kropotkin's  essays  on  Mutual  Aid. 
With  a  wealth  of  illustration  he  showed  the  pervasiveness 
of  mutual  aid  and  mutual  support  in  the  Animal  Kingdom. 
To  him  it  seemed  as  much  a  law  of  life  as  mutual  struggle, 
and  ''  of  the  greatest  importance  for  the  maintenance  of  life, 
the  preservation  of  each  species,  and  its  further  evolution  ''. 
IN'ow  while  it  is  useful  to  hold  over  against  aggressive 
competition  the  fact  of  mutual  aid,  there  is  a  more  radical 
way  of  stating  the  case.  The  idea  of  two  struggles,  one 
for  self,  and  one  for  others,  is  artificial,  and  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  there  is  much  self-expression  and  much 
self-subordination  which  has  no  direct  connection  with  struc:- 
gle  in  the  technical  sense ;  witness,  for  instance,  the  ex- 
pression of  a  well-adapted  parental  nature  that  is  not  meet- 
ing with  any  particular  difficulties  or  limitations.  How  is 
the  case  to  be  stated  ?  By  going  back  to  Darwin's  position. 
Self-assertive  organisms,  whose  inmost  nature  is  endeavour, 
find  themselves  faced  with  baffling  difficulties,  hemmed  in  by 
thwarting  limitations.  Whenever  the  creature  answers  back 
in  an  individual  way,  girding  up  its  loins  against  these 
difficulties  and  hurling  itself  against  these  limitations,  there 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  303 

is  the  struggle  for  existence.  But  there  are  many  different 
ways  of  answering  back;  there  are  many  different  cards 
that  the  organism  can  play.  One  creature  uses  its  weapons 
with  increased  skill,  another  finds  discretion  the  better  part 
of  valour;  both  are  reacting  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 
One  creature  intensifies  its  competitive  efforts,  another  seeks 
to  ensure  the  safety  and  success  of  its  offspring;  both  are 
reacting  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  In  the  egg-capsules 
of  the  whelk  some  of  the  larvae  devour  the  rest — a  grim 
cannibalism  in  the  cradle — this  is  the  one  extreme,  of  which 
there  are  few  illustrations.  As  nestling  birds  are  only  in 
process  of  becoming  warm-blooded,  it  is  of  great  importance 
in  many  cases  that  they  should  be  surrounded  by  non-con- 
ducting materials.  When  we  see  an  individual  bird  taking 
particular  care  to  add  feather  to  feather  till  there  are  over 
two  thousand,  we  know  that  it  is  unmistakably  strengthen- 
ing its  own  and  its  family's  foothold  in  the  struggle  for 
existence,  but  its  reaction  to  environing  difficulties  does  not 
hurt  any  other  bird.  This  is  at  the  opposite  pole,  and 
similar  illustrations  abound. 

The  race  is  not  always  to  the  swift  nor  the  battle  to  the 
strong.  The  concept  of  struggle  includes  self-assertive  com- 
petition, but  it  also  includes  a  gentle  endeavour  after  well- 
being.  One  creature  asserts  itself  by  sharpening  its  claws 
and  whetting  its  teeth,  another  finds  a  place  where  it  is 
invisible.  One  intensifies  competition  with  its  kin  around 
the  platter  of  subsistence — though  this  is  much  less  frequent 
than  is  supposed;  another  expresses  itself  in  more  elaborate 
parental  care.  Nor  can  we  forget  that  evasive  change  of 
liabit  and  habitat  known  as  parasitism — the  door  to  which 
is  always  open.  The  organism  has  many  a  thrust  and  parry, 
— all  of  which  are  logically  included  in  the  conception  of 


304  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

reactions  and  responses  to  environing  difficulties  and  limi- 
tations. 

Thus  the  nightmare  picture  of  the  Struggle  for  Exist- 
ence as  "  a  dismal  cockpit ''  gives  place  to  a  more  accurate 
one.  It  is  often  an  Endeavour  after  Well-being  on  a  non- 
competitive basis.  We  see  reason  to  regard  as  inaccurate 
the  conception  of  Animate  Nature  as  "  all  weather  ". 

We  must  not  allow  interests  other  than  those  of  accuracy 
and  consistency  to  intrude  in  scientific  inquiry,  but  the  fact 
must  be  pointed  out  that  vague  views  of  what  obtains  in 
Nature  have  had  a  deplorable  influence  in  human  affairs. 
What  was  at  first  said  almost  in  jest,  "  The  struggle  for 
existence — laissez  faire — the  survival  of  the  fittest '',  has 
become  to  some  a  philosophy  of  life.  There  has  been  a  sin- 
ister effect  of  careless  Darwinism.  As  has  been  well  said, 
"  It  has  given  the  seeming  sanction  of  science  at  one  time 
to  a  soulless  commercialism,  at  another  to  an  overweening 
pride  of  race  and  the  lust  of  dominion.  By  one  of  the  par- 
adoxes to  which  the  history  of  thought  is  prone,  the  theory 
of  progress  has  been  in  the  main  a  weapon  in  the  hands 
of  intellectual  and  moral  reaction.  But  every  new  theory 
has  to  go  through  its  infantile  diseases.  The  worst  of  these 
arises  from  that  distemper  of  the  mind,  peculiarly  prevalent 
in  the  half-educated  world  of  modern  thought,  which  prompts 
men  to  pick  up  ideas  which  specialists  have  elaborated  for 
their  own  purposes  in  their  own  departments  and  apply  them 
indiscriminately  as  catchwords  to  settle  questions  arising  in 
another  sphere." 

What  is  fallacious  in  the  careless  Darwinism  alluded  to? 
There  is:  (1)  a  narrow  and  wooden  conception  of  the 
Struggle  for  Existence  which  includes  many  endeavours  that 
are  not  directly  competitive  at  all;  (2)  a  failure  to  perceive 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  305 

that  the  survival  of  the  fittest  means  only  the  survival  of 
those  relatively  best  adapted  to  particular  conditions,  which 
may  be  parasitism  or  (in  some  ants)  slave-keeping;  (3)  a 
forgetfulness  of  the  apartness  of  human  society  from  the  ani- 
mal world  with  which  it  is  nevertheless  solidary — an  apart- 
ness which  forbids  any  uncriticised  transference  of  a  purely 
biological  induction  to  social  affairs;  and  (4)  an  ignoring  of 
the  historical  fact,  which  we  dare  mention  even  after  years 
of  carnage,  that  the  trend  of  civilisation  has  been  away  from 
the  harsher  forms  of  Nature's  regime. 

§  5.     The  Welfare  of  the  Species. 

When  we  pass  from  the  struggle  for  existence  in  its  many 
forms  to  consider  old-established  activities  which  secure  the 
welfare  of  the  species,  we  arrive  at  a  result  which  colours 
our  whole  view  of  Animate  Nature,  and  is  of  great  interest  to 
philosophy, — to  that  philosophy  at  least  which  has  one  hand 
on  Human  History  and  the  other  on  Natural  History,  and 
is  as  a  daysman  between  them.  Postponing  the  difficult 
question  as  to  where  we  should  draw  the  line  which  de- 
limits set  purpose,  we  find  that  a  very  large  part  of  the  time 
and  energy  of  living  creatures  is  given  over  to  activities 
which  do  not  make  for  self-increase  or  self-stability  or  self- 
preservation,  but  make  for  the  welfare  of  the  family,  the 
kin,  and  the  species. 

To  a  degree  which  has  not  been  adequately  realised  by 
naturalists,  organisms  are  adapted  to,  and  give  themselves 
up  to  securing  the  welfare  of  their  race.  In  their  multipli- 
cation, in  their  reproductive  processes,  in  their  parental  care, 
individuals  spend  themselves  in  activities  which  are  often 
not  to  their  own  advantage.  Their  personal  interests  have 
been  subordinated  to  those  of  the  species.     They  are  borne 


306  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

on  by  impulses  and  instincts  whicli  are  as  compelling  as 
hunger  and  thirst,  but  the  satisfaction  of  these  rarely  makes 
for  individual  advantage.  Indeed  it  is  often  fatal.  Repro- 
duction is  often  not  merely  the  distant  beginning  of  the 
individual's  death,  but  has  death  as  its  immediate  nemesis. 
In  some  higher  animals  love  is  its  own  reward  and  the 
parental  life  is  enriched  by  the  family,  but  this  is  true  only 
of  a  minority.  Even  sexual  gratification  is  as  often  absent 
as  present.  According  to  Goethe,  Nature  holds  that  for  the 
pains  of  a  lifetime  it  is  fair  payment  to  get  a  couple  of 
draughts  from  the  tankard  of  love.  But  many  animals  have 
only  one  draught  and  many  none  at  all.  How  many  insects 
there  are,  with  a  parental  solicitude  and  an  elaborateness  of 
care  that  strikes  one  dumb,  who  have  not  even  the  psychic 
reward  of  seeing  the  offspring  for  the  good  of  which  they 
more  or  less  unwittingly  spend  themselves. 

Professor  Cresson  (1913)  has  done  a  notable  service  in  il- 
lustrating with  accuracy  and  learning  the  extent  to  which 
there  is  subordination  of  the  individual  to  the  species.  There 
is  the  physiological  cost  of  producing  germ-cells,  so  obvious 
in  some  fishes ;  of  nourishing  the  young  before  birth — famil- 
iarly great  in  most  mammals ;  of  feeding  the  offspring  after 
they  are  hatched  or  born — as  in  many  insects  and  almost 
all  birds  and  mammals.  There  is  the  danger  and  exhaustion 
of  reproduction,  for  many  female  organisms  die  of  it,  and 
the  drone-bees  are  far  from  being  the  only  males  that  are 
sacrificed  on  the  altar  of  sex. 

Taking  birds,  for  instance,  we  are  all  more  or  less  familiar 
with  the  work  of  nest-making  (MacGillivray  counted  over 
two  thousand  feathers  in  the  nest  of  the  Long-tailed  Tit), 
with  the  patience  of  brooding  (sometimes  involving  fatal 
exposure),  with  the  prodigious  industry  exhibited  in  feeding 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  307 

the  family  (the  parent  bird  wearing  itself  to  a  skeleton), 
with  the  self-forgetfulness  shown  in  guarding,  cleaning,  and 
educating  the  young.  But  have  we  sufficiently  weighed  the 
general  fact  that  although  it  is  the  birds'  meat  and  drink 
to  do  all  this,  it  is  not  self-preser^^ation  at  any  rate  that 
results  ?  Many  adult  insects  spend  by  far  the  greater  part 
of  their  time  and  energy  in  securing  the  safety  of  their  eggs 
and  the  nourishment  of  the  young.  It  is  hardly  an  exag- 
geration to  say  with  Cresson :  ^'  Everything  for  the  species ; 
everything  by  the  individual ;  nothing  for  the  individual." 

What  difficulties  often  lie  in  the  way  of  the  fertilisation 
of  the  egg-cell !  How  many  tens  of  thousands  of  years,  how 
many  variations,  how  much  vital  energy,  how  much  searching 
elimination  have  gone  to  the  establishment  of  the  adapta- 
tions which  secure  this  end, — the  fragrance,  the  flags  of 
colour,  and  the  strategically  placed  nectaries  in  flowering 
plants,  the  imperious  desires,  the  intricate  attractions,  and 
the  subtle  psychical  embroidery  in  the  case  of  animals. 
There  are  parallel  adaptations  of  structure  and  habit,  which 
secure  the  welfare  of  the  young. 

The  fact  which  must  be  included  in  our  conception  of 
organic  life  is  the  amount  of  energy  that  is  expended  towards 
the  maintenance  of  the  species  rather  than  towards  self-pres- 
ervation and  self-gratification.  Animals  have  become  or- 
ganically interested  in  working  for  the  species,  and  even 
though  they  know  it  not,  their  individuality  completes  itself 
in  the  larger  life  of  their  race.  What  it  seems  to  mean, 
according  to  current  evolution-theory,  is  that  variations  (prob- 
ably altogether  germinal  to  begin  with)  in  directions  which 
made  for  the  welfare  of  offspring,  family,  society,  or  species, 
have  been  established  in  the  course  of  selection  no  less 
securely  than  those  which  made  for  self-preservation.     Meta- 


308  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

phorically  speaking,  we  may  say  that  this  has  been  Nature's 
way  of  setting  the  seal  of  her  approval  on  altruistic  be- 
haviour, even  when  the  animal's  left  hand  does  not  know 
what  its  right  hand  doeth. 

§  6.    As  regards  Warfare. 

The  position  here  defended  has  an  obvious  practical  in- 
terest,— in  reference  to  war,  for  some  have  seriously  main- 
tained that  human  warfare  has  what  is  called  '  Nature's 
sanction ',  that  it  is  consonant  with  what  goes  on  throughout 
Animate  Nature,  which  is  believed  to  be  in  a  state  of  uni- 
versal Hobbesian  warfare,  each  against  all,  and  no  discharge 
for  any.  Moreover,  human  warfare  is  declared  to  be  a  con- 
tinuation of  a  natural  process  which  necessarily  leads  to  the 
survival  of  the  relatively  more  fit.  In  the  words  of  von 
Bernhardi :  "  Wherever  we  look  in  nature,  we  find  that  war 
is  a  fundamental  law  of  evolution.  This  great  verity,  which 
has  been  recognised  in  past  ages,  has  been  convincingly  dem- 
onstrated in  modern  times  by  Charles  Darwin." 

Prof.  Karl  Pearson  has  given  strong  expression  to  the 
view  that  a  nation  should  be  ^^  kept  up  to  a  high  pitch  of 
internal  efiiciency  by  insuring  that  its  numbers  are  substan- 
tially recruited  from  the  better  stocks,  and  kept  up  to  a  high 
pitch  of  external  efficiency  by  contest,  chiefly  by  way  of  war 
with  inferior  races,  and  with  equal  races  by  the  struggle 
for  trade-routes  and  for  the  sources  of  food  supply  "... 
(1901,  p.  44).  "When  the  struggle  for  existence  between 
races  is  suspended,  the  solution  of  great  problems  may  be 
unnaturally  postponed ;  instead  of  the  slow  stern  processes 
of  evolution,  cataclysmal  solutions  are  prepared  for  the 
future."  .  .  .  (1901,  p.  20).  "There  will  be  nothing 
to  check  the  fertility  of  inferior  stock ;  the  relentless  law 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  309 

of  heredity  will  not  be  controlled  and  guided  by  natural 
selection.  Man  will  stagnate "  .  .  .  (1901,  p.  24).  Thus 
imperialism  and  militarism  find  theoretical  justification, — 
even  from  one  who  is  quite  clear  that  "  the  safety  of  a 
gregarious  animal — and  man  is  essentially  such — depends 
upon  the  intensity  with  which  the  social  instinct  has  been 
developed  ".  ^'  The  stability  of  a  race  depends  entirely  on 
the  extent  to  which  the  social  feelings  have  got  a  real  hold 
on  if'  (1901,  p.  47). 

We  need  not  raise  the  question  of  the  wisdom  of  appeal- 
ing to  E'ature  for  ethical  guidance,  nor  dwell  on  the  danger 
involved  in  the  fact  that  the  Darwinian  concept  of  struggle 
arose  historically  from  a  consideration  of  human  problems; 
there  are  more  important  things  to  say.  First,  as  we  have 
seen,  internecine  competition  among  near  kin  is  only  one 
mode  of  the  struggle  for  existence.  Especially  among  the 
finer  forms  of  life  do  we  find  that  the  answer-back  which 
is  given  to  the  environing  limitations  is  less  and  less  fre- 
quently an  intensification  of  competition,  is  more  and  more 
frequently  something  subtler,  some  modification  of  parental 
sacrifice,  some  co-operative  device,  some  experiment  in  so- 
ciality. Dr.  Chalmers  Mitchell  goes  the  length  of  saying 
(too  strongly,  we  think)  that  "  the  struggle  for  existence 
as  propounded  by  Charles  Darwin,  and  as  it  can  be  fol- 
lowed in  !N"ature,  has  no  resemblance  with  human  warfare  '^ 
(1915,  p.  108).  And  again,  as  entirely  independent  con- 
firmation of  what  we  have  maintained  in  Dariuinism  and 
Human  Life  (1909)  and  elsewhere,  we  may  quote  this  in- 
teresting passage:  "Looking  through  the  Animal  Kingdom 
as  a  whole,  and  remembering  that  the  Vegetable  Kingdom  is 
as  much  subject  and  responsive  to  whatsoever  may  bo  the 
law  of  organic  evolution,  I  find  no  grounds  for  interpreting 


310  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

Darwin's  '  metaphorical  phrase  ',  the  struggle  for  existence, 
in  any  sense  that  would  make  it  a  justification  of  war  be- 
tween nations.  It  is  mj  business  just  now  to  refute  a  mis- 
conception of  the  struggle  rather  than  to  explain  what  it  is. 
But,  if  the  latter  were  my  task,  I  could  adduce  from  the 
writings  of  Darwin  himself,  and  from  those  of  later  natu- 
ralists, a  thousand  instances  taken  from  the  Animal  King- 
dom in  which  success  has  come  about  by  means  analogous 
with  the  cultivation  of  all  the  peaceful  arts,  the  raisir^; 
of  the  intelligence,  and  the  heightening  of  the  emotions 
of  love  and  pity''  (1915,  p.  41). 

Second,  in  spite  of  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  definitions 
of  war,  we  may  venture  to  regard  the  essence  of  it  as  an 
organised  flesh  and  blood  struggle  between  communities  or 
nationalities,  and  if  this  be  so  its  analogue  is  to  be  looked 
for  in  the  quite  exceptional  group-competition  which  some- 
times occurs  among  some  social  insects,  notably  among  ants, 
and  not  in  the  competitive  forms  of  the  struggle  which  may 
occur  between  individual  animals  of  the  same  species. 

Third,  as  Dr.  Chalmers  Mitchell  points  out,  the  fallacious 
comparison  between  human  warfare  and  the  struggle  for 
existence  breaks  down  because  '^  modern  nations  are  not 
units  of  the  same  order  as  the  units  of  the  animal  and 
vegetable  kingdom"  (p.  108).  Nationalities  ^'differ  from 
the  units  of  zoology  and  botany  in  that  the  individuals 
composing  them  are  not  united  by  blood-relationship.  Even 
if  the  struggle  for  existence  were  the  sole  law  that  had  shaped 
and  trimmed  the  tree  of  life,  it  does  not  necessarily  apply 
to  the  political  communities  of  men,  for  these  cohere  not 
because  of  common  descent  but  because  of  bonds  that  are 
peculiar  to  the  human  race"   (p.  64). 

The  appeal  to  human  history,  which  the  militarists  make 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  311 

confidently,  has  seemed  to  many  to  show  that  civilisation 
was  born  out  of  war.  Even  Maine  spoke  of  the  "  Universal 
belligerency  of  primitive  mankind  ".  But  scientific  inquiry 
does  not  confirm  this  conclusion.  In  a  valuable  article  Mr. 
Havelock  Ellis  (1919)  makes  the  following  points:  (1)  ('hd- 
lean  man,  who  first  used  permanent  and  indubitably  human 
tools,  may  have  lived  about  27,000  years  ago,  so  that  our 
^  historical '  period  does  not  cover  a  large  part  of  our  his- 
tory. But  what  Palaeolithic  weapons  and  art  suggest  is 
in  the  main  hunting  not  fighting.  (2)  If  the  culture  of  the 
primitive  Mousterians  survives  among  the  Australians,  that 
of  the  Aurignacians  among  the  Bushmen,  and  that  of  the 
Magdalenians  among  the  Eskimo,  what  the  study  of  these 
contemporary  ancestors  of  ours  seems  to  show  is  that  war, 
apart  from  regulated  punishment  and  blood-vengeance,  is 
almost  unknown.  'Savages'  are  on  the  whole  not  warlike. 
(3)  ^'  War  probably  began  late  in  the  history  of  mankind, 
it  developed  slowly  out  of  animal  hunting  by  way  of  a 
regulated  attempt  to  secure  justice  as  well  as  the  gratifica- 
tion of  revenge,  it  was  immensely  stimulated  by  the  dis- 
coveries of  the  metals,  and  especially  iron;  above  all,  it 
owed  its  expansion  to  two  great  forces,  the  attractive  force 
of  booty  and  commercial  gain  in  front,  and  the  propulsive 
force  of  a  confined  population  with  a  high  birth-rate  be- 
hind. .  .  ."  "  War  was  a  result,  and  not  a  cause,  of  social 
organisation." 

We  think  that  there  is  a  risk  of  exaggerating  the  impor- 
tance of  a  high  birth-rate  as  a  factor  in  the  evolution  of 
warfare,  for  primitive  peoples  had  their  own  rough  ways 
of  keeping  a  population  balance.  Perhaps,  again,  Mr.  Ellis 
underrates  the  importance  of  variation — especially  social 
variation — as  a  cause  of  war.     Therefore  while  it  is  with 


312  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

conviction  that  he  looks  forward  to  the  control  of  the  birth- 
rate and  to  the  regularisation  of  industrialism  as  likely  to 
bring  wars  to  an  end,  we  should  add  as  a  more  positive  pacific 
factor  an  increase  of  inter-relations  which  will  promote 
tolerance  for,  and  intelligent  appreciation  of  those  who  are 
very  different  from  ourselves. 

But  the  immediate  point  is  that  the  militarists'  appeal  to 
history  is  not  any  more  convincing  than  their  appeal  to 
biology.     The  facts  are  against  them  in  both  fields. 

The  third  appeal  of  the  militarists  is  to  ethics,  and  may 
be  illustrated  by  Moltke's  famous  letter  of  1880 — ^'  Eternal 
peace  is  a  dream,  and  not  even  a  beautiful  dream,  and  war 
is  a  part  of  God's  world-order.  In  war  are  developed  the 
noblest  virtues  of  mankind;  courage  and  sacrifice,  fidelity 
and  the  willingness  to  sacrifice  life  itself.  Without  war 
the  world  would  be  swallowed  up  in  materialism."  There 
are  two  half-truths  here.  The  first  is  that  war  does  evoke 
noble  virtues;  the  missing  half  is  that  there  are  other  en- 
deavours outside  of  war  that  may  evoke  these  virtues  not  less 
well,  and  much  less  wastefully.  Moreover,  no  one  can  forget 
that  war  evokes  other  qualities  than  virtues.  The  second 
half-truth  is  that  struggle  and  sifting  seem  to  be  needed 
for  the  welfare  of  humanity;  the  missing  half  is  that  war 
is  only  one  of  the  many  forms  of  struggle.  As  Havelock 
Ellis  tersely  puts  it,  "  Conflict  is  a  genus  with  many  species, 
of  which  war  is  only  one  " — and  one  of  violence,  from  which 
at  every  level  it  is  the  effort  of  civilisation  to  deliver  us. 
Struggle  we  can  never  do  without,  but  of  war  the  world 
has  had  more  than  enough. 

Let  us  state  the  case  more  generally.  Endeavour  and 
sifting  are  surely  conditions  of  progress,  but  war  between 
races  is  only  one  mode  and  it  seems  very  doubtful  that  it 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  313 

makes  for  real  superiority.  If  the  energy  misdirected  by 
the  facile  acceptance  of  had  biology  were  turned  to  prac- 
ticable eugenics,  to  hygienic  reform,  to  inter-national  ad- 
venture, if  men  looked  out  for  the  ^^  moral  equivalents  of 
war  ",  there  might  be  a  way  out  of  the  impasse  which  Prof. 
Karl  Pearson  pictures  as  inevitable  if  there  is  cessation  in 
the  struggle  of  race  against  race.  Are  we  not  beginning 
(to  use  Prof.  Lovejoy's  words)  ''  to  recognise  that  the  effort 
to  cram  the  moral  ideas  of  civilised  man  into  the  rigid  mould 
of  the  natural  selection  hypothesis  is  an  artificial  and  not 
very  promising  enterprise  "  (1909,  p.  99)  ? 

Furthermore,  when  Man  has  recourse  to  internecine  com- 
petition among  fellows, — to  what  is,  let  us  say,  remotely  anal- 
ogous to  a  primitive  and  crude  form  of  the  struggle  for 
existence — exhibited  by  amoebse,  if  not  by  rats — he  cannot 
console  himself  with  the  belief  that  this  must  result  in  the 
survival  of  the  fittest  in  any  desirable  human  sense.  For 
the  struggle  for  existence  need  not  result  in  the  survival  of 
the  strongest,  cleverest,  or  best.  It  never  results  in  more 
than  the  survival  of  those  relatively  more  fit  to  the  given 
conditions,  and  these  may  be  on  the  downgrade,  not  on 
the  upgrade.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  is  considerable  reason 
to  believe  that,  as  regards  the  members  of  either  side,  war 
acts  on  the  whole  dysgenically,  by  sifting  out  those  whom 
the  race  can  least  afford  to  lose. 

IN   CONCLUSION. 

It  is  not  maintained  that  there  are  no  shadows  in  ]N"ature 
— '  wildness  ',  wastefulness,  parasitism,  and  even,  at  times, 
positive  disharmony — but,  postponing  a  discussion  of  some 
of  these  difficulties,  we  are  concerned  here  to  point  out  that 
although  there  is  in  the  routine  of  Animate  Nature  much 


314  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

hunting  and  being  hunted,  much  devouring  and  being  de- 
voured, that  is  only  one  side  of  the  picture. 

Outside  the  struggle  for  existence  in  the  strict  sense  there 
is  undeniably  a  large  amount  of  established  self-preservative 
routine,  but  there  is  at  least  an  equally  large  amount  of 
established  race-preservative  routine.  Our  total  impression 
must  do  justice  to  both  sets  of  facts.  And  within  the  bounds 
of  the  struggle  for  existence  in  the  strict  sense  there  are 
many  modes,  some  not  strictly  competitive  at  all.  The 
struggle  which  JSTietzsche  saw  in  Nature  and  condescended 
to  approve  of,  was  not  a  scramble  of  starvelings  around  the 
platter  of  subsistence,  but  the  elbowing  and  jostling  of 
masterful  individualities ;  and  we  maintain  that  much  of 
this  quality  of  insurgence  is  familiar  to  the  field  naturalist. 
But  apart  from  elbowing  and  jostling,  and  apart  from  in- 
ternecine competition  and  sanguinary  combats,  there  is  much 
of  the  struggle  for  existence  which  might  often  be  quite 
accurately  called  the  endeavour  after  well-being,  and  much, 
as  Darwin  emphasised,  which  may  be  described  as  self-sub- 
ordinating experiment  and  effort  to  secure  the  success  of 
the  offspring. 

SUMMABY. 

Some  students  of  the  tactics  of  Animate  Nature  have  discerned  in 
them  httle  to  admire  and  less  to  imitate.  Huxley  and  James  are 
here  in  agreement.  Others,  such  as  Geddes  and  Kropotkin,  have 
discerned  a  materiahsed  ethical  process.  The  discrepancy  is  partly 
due  to  focussing  attention  now  on  *  hunger  ^  and  again  on  *  love  \ 
now  on  '  egoistic '  and  again  on  *  altruistic '  activities,  now  on  self- 
preservation  and  self -increase  and  again  on  race-continuance  and 
eugenic  success.    Both  sets  of  facts  must  be  kept  in  view. 

The  twofold  business  of  Uving  creatures  is  caring  for  self  and 
caring  for  others.  Hunger  and  love,  in  the  widest  sense,  form  the 
subject  and  the  counter-subject  of  the  great  fugue  of  life.  In  satis- 
fying  these   imperious   primal   impulses   the    organism   encounters 


THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE  315 

obstacles,  and  the  inmost  secret  of  life,  from  first  to  last,  is  en- 
deavour. The  perennial  problem  is  to  adjust  relations  between  the 
self-expression  of  the  organism  and  the  indifference,  or  hostility, 
or  conflicting  interests  in  its  environment. 

All  the  fresh  reactions  and  responses  which  living  creatures  make 
to  environing  difficulties  and  limitations  are  summed  up  in  the 
Darwinian  concept  of  the  Struggle  for  Existence  which  has  suffered 
from  widespread  misunderstanding.  As  is  well  known,  the  three 
main  difficulties  are  those  involved  in  the  tendency  to  over-popula- 
tion, in  the  nutritive  dependence  of  one  creature  upon  another,  and 
in  the  changefulness  of  the  environment.  As  is  also  w^ell  knowm,  the 
struggle  takes  three  main  forms, — between  fellows  of  the  same  kith 
and  kin,  between  foes  of  entirely  different  kinds,  and  between 
organisms  and  their  inorganic  sun'oundings.  But  what  is  less 
clearly  recognised  is  that  the  struggle  need  not  be  directly  competi- 
tive, need  not  be  sanguinary,  need  not  lead  to  elimination  there  and 
then,  and  that  it  is  often  more  accurately  described  as  an  endeavour 
after  well-being.  The  race  is  not  always  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle 
to  the  strong,  for,  as  Darwin  clearly  recognised,  survival  may  be  the 
reward  of  those  who  give  the  best  send-off  to  their  offspring,  or  to 
those  who  vary  most  in  the  direction  of  self-subordination. 

Corrections  of  the  idea  that  the  struggle  for  existence  is  neces- 
sarily an  internecine  competition  between  kin  around  the  margin  of 
subsistence  (of  which  there  are  remarkably  few  good  illustrations) 
have  been  offered  by  Spencer,  Kessler,  Geddes,  Dinmmond,  Kropot- 
kin,  and  others.  And  Dai'win  safeguarded  himself  carefully.  In- 
stead of  opposing  "  Struggle  for  Self  "  and  "  Struggle  for  Others  ", 
or  "  Mutual  Struggle "  and  "  Mutual  Aid ",  it  is  scientifically 
clearer  to  recognise  that  the  concept  of  Struggle  includes  all  the 
reactions  and  responses  w^hich  individual  organisms  make  in  face 
of  difficulties.  Intensifying  competition  is  one  mode,  an  elabora- 
tion of  parental  care  is  another,  an  experiment  in  parasitism  is 
another,  a  new  departure  in  sociality  another,  and  there  are  many 
more — all  of  which  pay.  Thus  the  nightmare  picture  of  the  Strug- 
gle for  Existence  as  "  a  dismal  cockpit "  gives  place  to  a  more  ac- 
curate one,  which  is  more  conformable  with  the  assumption  that 
Nature  is  not  "  all  weather "  or  "  a  moral  multiverse  ". 

The  competitive  form  of  the  struggle  for  existence  is  not  illus- 
trated when  all  the  members  of  a  species  meet  a  familiar  difficulty 
with  equal  effectiveness,  the  capacity  for  the  response  being  in- 
grained in  the  constitution.     But  it  is  interesting  to  turn  to  these 


316  THE  ISSUES  OF  LIFE 

securely  established  ways,  to  see  how  large  a  proportion  of  the 
energy  and  time  at  the  disposal  of  living  creatures  is  spent  in  activi- 
ties which  make  not  for  self -increase,  self-stability,  or  self-preserv^a- 
tion,  but  for  the  welfare  of  the  family,  the  kin,  and  the  species. 
Neither  naturalists  nor  philosophers  have  adequately  realised  the 
extent  to  which  there  is  throughout  Animate  Nature  a  subordination 
of  the  individual  to  the  species.  Survival  is  often  the  reward  of  the 
individualistic  competitor,  but  not  less  frequently  of  those  with  a 
capacity  for  self-forgetfulness. 

There  is  little  in  common  between  the  Darwinian  struggle  for 
existence  and  human  warfare.  Modern  nationalities  are  not  com- 
parable to  individual  organisms.  Even  if  the  analogy  were  closer 
it  would  afford  no  biological  justification  for  war,  for  natural  selec- 
tion in  the  struggle  for  existence  results  only  in  the  survival  of  the 
relatively  more  fit  to  given  conditions. 


LECTURE  X. 
ADAPTIVENESS  AKD  PUKPOSIVENESS. 


LECTURE  X. 
ADAPTIVE^ESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS. 

§  1.  Animate  Nature  Abounds  in  Adaptations.  §  2.  Their  Origin 
neither  hy  Design  nor  Mechanical.  §  3.  7s  There  '  Purpose ' 
in  the  Inorganic  Domain?  §4.  Purposefulness  and  Purposive- 
ness  in  Human  Behaviour.  §  5.  Purposiveness  and  Purpose- 
fulness  in  Animal  Behaviour.  §  6.  The  Purposelikeness  of  the 
Ordinary  Functioning  of  the  Body  is  Covered  by  the  Concept 
of  Adaptation.     §  7.    Provisional  Conclusion  and  Anticipation. 

Our  survey  of  the  Realm  of  Organisms  as  it  is  affords 
evidence  in  support  of  the  following  propositions:  (1)  that 
living  creatures  are  individualities  standing  apart  from 
things  in  general  and  not  exhaustively  described  in  mecha- 
nistic terms;  (2)  that  their  lives  abound  in  behaviour  with 
a  psychical  aspect;  (3)  that  there  is  in  Animate  Nature 
a  prevalence  of  orderly  systematisation,  balance,  and  smooth 
working;  (4)  that  there  is  a  pervasive  beauty  both  hidden 
and  revealed;  and  (5)  that  a  very  large  proportion  of  the 
time  and  energy  at  the  disposal  of  organisms  is  devoted  to 
activities  which  make  not  for  self-maintenance  and  self- 
aggrandisement,  but  for  the  continuance  and  welfare  of  the 
race.  In  fact,  we  find  in  Animate  Nature  far-reaching 
correspondence  to  the  ideals  of  the  True,  the  Beautiful,  and 
the  Good — correspondences  which  may  suggest  to  some  a 
possible  line  of  development  for  Natural  Theology. 

§  1.     Animate  Nature  Abounds  in  Adaptations. 

A  survey  of  the  realm  of  organisms  affords  another  great 
impression  and  that  is  the  prevalence  of  adaptations.     ''  The 

319 


320     ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

narrowest  hinge  in  my  hand  puts  to  scorn  all  machinery''; 
the  hand  as  a  whole  is  the  subject  of  a  Bridgewater  Treatise. 
The  Vertebrate  eye  is  extraordinarily  well  adapted,  in  spite 
of  the  instrumental  imperfections  which  Helmholtz  discov- 
ered. The  functional  correlations  of  internal  organs  such 
as  heart  and  lungs  are  as  effective  as  they  are  delicate.  The 
flat-fish  is  so  adaptable  in  its  coloration  to  the  pattern  of 
the  sea-floor  on  which  it  rests  that  it  has  practically  a  Gyges 
ring,  making  itself  invisible,  sometimes  almost  instantane- 
ously. Flowers  and  their  welcome  insect-visitors  are  suited 
to  one  another  as  glove  'to  hand.  The  realm  of  organisms 
abounds  in  adaptations,  some  extraordinarily  perfect,  some 
in  process  of  becoming  perfect. 

First  there  are  the  structural  adaptations  of  the  organism 
— some  with  internal  and  some  with  external  reference, 
some  static,  some  dynamic.  The  internal  structure  of  a  long 
bone  or  of  the  stem  of  a  plant  is  suited  in  detail  to  stand 
the  strains  and  stresses  to  which  it  is  exposed.  The  same 
quality  of  architectural  stability  may  be  seen  everywhere 
from  the  scaffolding  of  a  siliceous  sponge  like  Venus's  Flower 
Basket  to  the  spine  of  a  sea-urchin,  from  the  spirally  twisted 
encasement  of  an  arenaceous  Foraminifer  to  the  prismatic 
structure  of  the  enamel  of  our  teeth. 

Less  static  are  the  adaptations  of  parts  that  move  and 
work.  The  adaptations  of  a  bird's  skeleton  for  flight  and 
for  bipedal  progression  are  many  and  thorough.  The  heart 
is  a  masterpiece  of  fitness,  and  in  many  cases,  as  in  the 
antelope  on  the  plains  or  in  the  ptarmigan  on  the  high  moun- 
tains, there  are  interesting  special  adaptations  of  the  heart 
to  stand  special  strain.  The  delicacy  and  complexity  of  the 
mouth-parts  of  such  insects  as  mosquitoes  may  well  evoke  the 
artificer's  admiration. 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      321 

Of  great  interest  are  the  co-ordinating  functional  adjust- 
ments which  secure  smooth  working.  A  fine  example  is  the 
heat-regulating  arrangement  or  thermotaxis  of  birds  and 
mammals,  which  adjusts  the  production  of  animal  heat  so 
as  to  meet  the  loss.  Superimposed  on  this,  as  it  were,  are 
the  special  adjustments  which  bring  about  winter-sleep  in 
hibernating  mammals.  And  there  is  no  internal  regulation 
more  worthy  of  our  admiration  than  the  manner  in  which 
the  mother-mammal  is  functionally  prepared  for  the  ante- 
natal development  of  the  offspring  and  its  nurture  after  birth. 
The  adaptive  regulatory  role  of  the  internal  secretions  is 
one  of  the  most  fascinating  chapters  in  modern  physiology. 

Inexhaustible,  again,  are  the  illustrations  of  the  manner 
in  which  living  creatures  are  adapted  to  the  particular  con- 
ditions of  their  life.  The  mole,  living  underground,  is 
adapted  in  its  short  vertical  fur  and  in  the  absence  of  an 
ear-trumpet  to  the  reduction  of  friction  in  burrowing;  its 
hand  has  become  an  extraordinary  shovel  and  its  shoulder- 
girdle  and  associated  musculature  are  powerfully  developed; 
the  minute,  imperfectly  developed  eye  is  good  enough  for 
what  is  required  of  it,  and  it  is  hidden  by  hair  so  that  it 
does  not  get  rubbed  and  become  a  source  of  weakness;  and 
so  the  zoologist  goes  on. 

We  may  also  refer  to  the  theoretically  very  interesting 
inter-organismal  adaptations.  These  may  be  between  or- 
ganisms of  the  same  kind,  between  parent  and  offspring, 
between  male  and  female.  Even  the  male  parent  may  be 
adapted  to  the  offspring  as  we  see  in  the  pouch  of  the 
sea-horse,  and  in  the  still  more  striking  case  of  the  New 
Guinea  fresh-water  fish  called  Kurtus,  where  a  hooked  bony 
process  grows  from  the  top  of  the  male's  head  at  the  breed- 
ing season  and  serves  for  the  suspension  of  the  bunch  of 


322     ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

eggs.  The  young  marsupials  are  born  prematurely  and  can- 
not even  suck ;  the  mother  places  them  in  her  external  pocket 
of  skin  and  has  a  special  arrangement  for  forcing  the  milk 
into  their  mouth.  They  meet  this,  so  to  speak,  with  a  special 
adaptation  that  prevents  the  milk  going  down  the  wrong  way. 

There  are  also  inter-organismal  adaptations  between  crea- 
tures of  different  kinds,  of  which  the  crovniing  examples 
are  to  be  found  in  the  way  certain  flowers  and  certain  in- 
sects are  suited  for  making  the  best  of  one  another.  Very 
striking  also  are  the  numerous  mutually  helpful  associations 
which  have  been  established — partnerships,  commensalism, 
and  symbiosis,  in  which  there  is  sometimes  two-sided  adapta- 
tion. The  case  is  repulsive,  but  the  parasite  is  often  adapted 
to  its  drifting  life  of  ease  and  to  making  much  of  its  host, 
which,  in  turn,  is  often  adapted  so  that  it  hardly  suffers 
at  all  from  its  guest.  In  the  mimetic  resemblance  of  one 
creature  to  another  there  is  again  adaptation,  often  of  almost 
incredible  subtlety. 

In  Indo-Pacific  crabs  of  the  genus  Melia  a  delicate  sea- 
anemone  is  often  carried  on  the  forceps,  and  probably  serves 
to  paralyse  the  crab's  prey  with  its  batteries  of  stinging 
cells.  It  is  quaintly  suggestive  of  a  tool,  and  its  occasional 
absence  shows  that  it  is  not  vitally  necessary.  But  the  part- 
nership or  commensalism  is  probably  of  very  old  standing, 
since  the  denticles  of  the  forceps  are  elongated  into  needles 
which  are  adaptively  suited  to  keeping  a  firm  grip  of  the 
'  tool  \ 

We  are  accustomed  to  the  idea  of  adaptations,  but  perhaps 
we  are  not  sufficiently  appreciative  of  their  nicety.  When 
winter  sets  in,  the  North  American  ruffed  gi^ouse  puts  on 
snow-shoes — a  row  of  projecting  plates  on  each  side  of  each 
toe  so  that  the  bird  can  tread  on  the  loose  snow  without 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      323 

sinking  in.  The  African  egg-eating  snake,  Dasypeltis,  has 
very  few  teeth  and  it  would  not  be  profitable  to  crack  iLc 
eggs  in  its  mouth;  the  egg  slips  intact  into  the  gullet,  wbcre 
it  is  met  by  the  sharp  points  of  the  inferior  spines  of  a 
number  of  vertebra?.  These  project  into  the  gullet  and  cut 
the  egg-shells,  so  that  none  of  the  precious  food  is  wasted. 
The  spines  are  said  to  be  actually  tipped  with  enamel,  the 
hardest  of  all  tissues.  The  empty  broken  egg-shells  are 
always  returned. 

An  adaptation  that  gives  us  pause  is  the  '  egg-tooth  ^ 
found  at  the  tip  of  the  bill  in  many  young  birds,  and  used 
by  them  to  break  a  way  through  the  imprisoning  egg-shell. 
It  is  a  hard  thickening  of  horn  and  lime  at  the  tip  of  the 
bill,  and  since  it  develops  before  the  horny  ensheathment 
of  the  beak  it  may  be  a  residue  of  a  very  ancient  scaly 
armature  in  Reptilian  ancestors  of  birds.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  the  instrument  is  an  effective  one  and  it  is  used  only 
once!  What  happens  is  this:  the  young  bird  ready  to  be 
hatched  thrusts  its  beak  into  the  air-chamber  that  fonns 
at  the  broad  end  of  the  egg;  air  rushes  down  the  nostrils 
and  fills  the  lungs  for  the  first  time;  in  the  exhihiration 
of  this  first  breath  the  unhatched  bird  knocks  vigorously 
at  the  shell  and  breaks  open  the  prison  doors.  After  a  few 
days,  in  most  cases,  the  egg-tooth,  having  done  its  work,  falls 
off, — a  well-adapted  instrument  that  functions  only  once. 

But  there  is  a  further  detail  which  is  of  much  interest. 
The  bill  and  its  egg-tooth  are  only  the  instruments;  what 
about  the  musculature  which  works  these?  Prof.  Franz 
Keibel  has  inquired  into  this  in  the  case  of  the  unhatched 
chick  and  duckling.  He  finds  that  the  work  is  done  by  a 
muscle  called  the  musculus  complexus,  and  that  this  is  very 
markedly  hypertrophied  for  some  time  before  hatching.     On 


824     ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

the  tenth  day  after  hatching,  it  shows  no  peculiarity.  Here, 
then,  we  have  a  simple  instance  of  the  way  in  which  de- 
velopment proceeds  as  if  it  tuere  ivorhing  with  a  purpose. 
How  comes  that  musculus  coraplexus  to  he  temporarily  ex- 
aggerated in  strength,  in  relation  to  the  breaking  of  the  egg- 
shell,— an  action  which  only  occurs  once  in  each  generation  ? 

The  idea  of  adaptation  is  sometimes  held  far  too  nar- 
rowly, and  a  needless  difficulty  is  made  over  the  fact  that 
some  specific  characters  are  not  kno^vn  to  be  adaptive  to  any 
particular  condition  of  life.  But,  in  the  first  place,  some 
characters  supposed  at  first  to  he  quite  indifferent  have 
been  shown,  after  closer  acquaintance  with  the  creature,  to 
be  finely  adaptive.  And,  in  the  second  place,  an  organism 
is  not  a  system  of  pegs  on  which  a  hundred  ^  characters  ' 
are  hung,  it  is  a  harmonious  unity,  viable  and  persisting 
in  virtue  of  its  subtle  internal  equilibrium  as  well  as  in 
virtue  of  the  adjustment  of  its  tout  ensemble  to  the  condi- 
tions of  life.  Adaptation  may  have  an  internal  as  well  as 
an  external  reference. 

Beyond  particular  instances  of  organismal  adaptation,  we 
have  the  broad  fact  that  in  a  given  association  of  organisms 
a  balanced  modus  vivendi  is  arrived  at,  a  compromise  be- 
tween competing  interests,  so  that  the  system  persists  and 
works  smoothly.  The  balance  of  nature  is  the  largest  of 
all  adaptations.  Just  as  the  Systema  l^aturse  of  the  tax- 
onomist — the  orderly  classification  of  the  classifier — speaks 
of  rationality;  so  the  vital  systema  naturae  which  the  nat- 
uralist discloses  is  also  a  cosmos.  There  is  a  systematisation 
or  co-ordination  of  lives,  world-wide  in  its  scope,  and  becom- 
ing ever  more  subtle  in  its  accomplishment. 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      825 

§  2.     Their  OHgin  neither  by  Design  nor  Mechanical 

Opposite  the  title-page  of  Darwin's  Oricjin  of  Species, 
there  is  a  quotation  from  one  of  the  Bridgewater  Treatises. 
A  judicious  quotation  it  is,  but,  as  Professor  Lovejoy  points 
out,  there  is  a  historic  irony  in  finding  it  at  the  outset  of 
a  book  which  was  the  death-sentence  of  the  kind  of  ariru- 
ment  most  characteristic  of  the  treatises  in  question.  Darwin 
sought  to  show  that,  if  copious  variability  be  granted  and 
abundance  of  time  be  allowed,  then  Nature's  sifting — the 
process  of  Natural  Selection — will  account  for  all  the  strik- 
ing adaptations  from  which  many  thoughtful  observers  had 
been  wont  to  argue  directly  to  theism.  He  says  himself: 
"  The  old  argument  from  design  in  nature  .  .  .  which 
once  seemed  to  me  so  conclusive,  fails,  now  that  the  law 
of  natural  selection  has  been  discovered.  We  can  no  longer 
argue  that,  for  instance,  the  beautiful  hinge  of  a  bivalve 
shell  must  have  been  made  by  an  intelligent  being,  like  the 
hinge  of  a  door  hj  man.  There  seems  to  be  no  more  design 
in  the  variability  of  organic  beings,  and  in  the  action  of 
natural  selection,  than  in  the  course  which  the  wind  blows." 

Now  we  cannot  return  to  any  crude  form  of  the  old  idea 
that  the  thousand  and  one  adaptations  of  organisms,  which 
gratify  our  sense  of  fitness,  are  the  direct  outcome  of  the 
design  of  a  divine  artificer.  It  is  agreed  that  they  have 
been  more  or  less  gradually  evolved  by  the  operation  of 
natural  factors.  They  have  been  wrought  out  in  what  is 
often  called  Nature's  w^orkshop. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  cannot  accept  Darwin's  statement 
that  the  evolution  of  adaptations  is  comparable  to  the  work 
of  the  wind  among  the  snow-drifts.  The  inadequacy  of  the 
statement  is  fourfold. 


326      ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

(1)  The  raw  materials  of  adaptations  are  variations  or 
mutations — the  precious  idiosyncrasies  of  structure  and  func- 
tion that  are  continually  cropping  up,  that  keep  the  realm 
of  organisms  on  the  move.  Some  of  these  variations  may 
be  accidental  and  some  necessitated,  hut  of  many,  especially 
those  vrhich  may  he  called  ^  new  departures  ',  all  we  can 
say  is  that  they  arise, — apparently  from  within  the  arcana 
of  the  germ-cells.  They  look  like  expressions  of  inherent 
creative  spontaneity,  like  experiments  in  self-expression. 
And  it  must  be  remembered  that  a  germ-cell  is  not  an 
ordinary  cell,  but  a  condensed  implicit  individuality,  rich 
in  the  gains  of  the  past,  rich  in  possibilities  for  the  future, 
— a  psycho-physical  being  telescoped  down.  In  any  case, 
while  our  ignorance  of  the  origin  of  variations  remains,  as 
in  Darwin's  day,  profound,  there  is  no  reason  why  the 
argumentum  ad  ignorantiam  should  favour  mechanistic  in- 
terpretation. The  fact  is  that  we  cannot  at  present  give 
a  mechanical  account  of  the  origin  of  the  crop  of  variations 
from  which  TsTature's  weeding  removes  the  tares.  We  always 
reckon  without  our  host  in  Biology  when  we  leave  life  out. 

(2)  An  important  idea,  which  we  cannot  at  present  elab- 
orate, is  that  the  variations  or  new  departures  which  take 
hold  must  not  be  inconsistent  with  the  already  established 
organic  architecture.  Just  as  the  architect  or  the  crystal 
must  build  congruently,  so  the  varying  organism  must  not 
contradict  itself.  The  novelty  must  be  in  keeping  or  har- 
mony with  what  has  preceded,  with  what  has  already  jus- 
tified itself  as  fit.  There  are  very  few  monsters  to  be  seen 
in  wild  l^ature,  for  they  express  a  contradiction  in  terms 
and  cannot  live  in  natural  conditions.  Nay  more,  very 
few  monsters  ever  appear  in  wild  ISTature,  for  the  germ-cell 
must  be  a  viable  unity,  and  even  in  its  experiments  it  is 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      327 

controlled  by  the  past  to  hold  fast  to  that  which  is  good. 
It  is  a  very  interesting  fact  that  some  monsters  have  been 
experimentally  produced  by  disharmonious  mongrel  fertilisa- 
tion of  egg-cells. 

(3)  It  is  admitted  that  one  of  the  characteristics  of  ^  Na- 
ture's workshop  '  is  the  number  of  automatic  arrangements. 
In  making  a  machine  an  artificer  literally  selects;  in  estab- 
lishing a  breed  of  animals  Man  literally  selects ;  but  Natural 
Selection  is  a  metaphorical  term, — the  sifting  is  very  largely 
automatic.  The  survivors  survive  automatically  in  virtue  of 
the  possession  of  certain  advantageous  qualities;  the  elim- 
inated disappear  automatically  because  of  the  absence  of 
certain  advantageous  qualities  or  the  presence  of  others  that 
are  fatal.     But  this  is  not  the  whole  truth. 

The  selection  that  occurs  is  not  haphazard;  it  bears  some 
relation  to  the  previously  established  external  systematisa- 
tion  which  we  call  the  web  of  life,  just  as  social  criticism 
which  makes  it  difficult  for  the  unreliable  to  get  on  is  not 
haphazard,  but  bears  some  relation  to  previously  established 
traditions  and  standards.  The  elimination  in  either  case 
is  remote  from  fortuity  or  capriciousness.  It  always  has, 
of  course,  an  immediate  reference  to  the  present  and  not  to 
the  future;  but  the  present  has  been  determined  by  a  past 
selection  of  the  fit  and  embodies  that  selection  in  an  ob- 
jective sieve  of  great  subtlety.  Since  the  sieve  is  a  sys- 
tematisation  of  fitness,  it  tends  to  sift  towards  fitness  in 
the  future  as  well  as  in  the  present — unless,  indeed,  the 
conditions  of  the  future  should  greatly  change. 

Let  us  repeat  this  argument.  There  is  in  each  case  a 
line  of  evolution  that  pays ;  it  has  been  reached  by  past  varia- 
tions;  new  variations  that  are  congruent  with  the  past  are 
on  the  whole  most  likely  to  appear  and  to  catch  on;  there 


328     ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

fore  a  variation  may  have  a  prospective  value.  Moreover, 
the  external  systematisation  v^hich  forms  the  sieve  is  the 
embodiment  of  the  results  of  ages  of  sifting.  Therefore  for- 
tuitousness dvs^indles  away.  Sir  Ray  Lankester  is  inaccurate 
in  speaking  of  evolution  as  a  '^  chapter  of  accidents  ". 

(4)  Again,  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  in  addition  to 
varying,  organisms  often  take  an  active  part  in  their  own 
evolution.  They  are  anything  but  passive  in  a  game  Fate 
plays.  They  may  select  the  environment  that  suits  them, 
and  play  the  cards  with  which  variability  supplies  them. 
And  this  is  not  automatic.  If  a  change  in  instinctive  be- 
haviour (e.g.,  that  exhibited  in  fashioning  a  wasp's  nest) 
be  the  outcrop  of  a  germinal  mutation,  it  is  not  likely  to 
persist  unless  it  is  congruent  with  the  previously  established 
routine,  and  it  is  not  likely  to  come  to  stay  unless  it  pass 
muster  in  the  individual  apprenticeship  when  novelties  are 
tested,  an  apprenticeship  in  which,  according  to  some  care- 
ful students  of  behaviour,  the  slender  rill  of  intelligence 
is  sometimes  to  be  detected  even  in  those  creatures  most 
thoroughly  dominated  by  instinctive  equipment. 

We  see,  then,  that  it  is  not  legitimate  to  say  that  a  mecha- 
nistic description  has  been  given  of  the  establishment  of 
adaptations,  or  even  to  say,  without  qualification,  that  they 
have  been  turned  out  automatically  in  the  workshop  of  Na- 
ture. Darwin's  comparison  of  the  process  to  the  work  of 
the  wind  expressed  an  error  of  judgment,  for  the  blowing 
of  the  wind  is  altogether  mechanically  necessitated,  and  we 
cannot  admit  that  this  is  true  of  organic  evolution  where 
individuality  exists  and  counts. 

But  let  us  suppose  that  v\^e  have  made  some  mistake  in 
our  argument,  and  that  evolution  is  more,  not  less,  automatic 
than  Darwin  believed.     What  then?     We  look  with  great 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      329 

satisfaction  at  a  contrivance  like  a  linotype  printing  machine, 
or  a  monorail  engine  with  its  equilibrating  gyroscope,  or 
at  a  watch  (had  not  Bridge waterism  made  us  tired  of  it)  ; 
they  all  show  much  skill  on  the  part  of  the  artificer — the 
original  artificer  at  least.  If  we  were  told,  however,  that 
the  contrivance  we  admire  was  not  made  by  an  artificer 
at  all,  but  was  turned  out  by  an  automatic  machine,  our 
admiration  would  simply  be  shifted  to  the  designer  or  artif- 
icer of  the  original  automatic  machine,  and  we  should  ad- 
mire all  the  more  if  the  original  device  was  very  simple. 
So  in  Biology,  the  basal  fact  remains  that  organisms  have 
had,  and  still  have,  the  capacity  of  evolving  adaptively. 
They  have  it  in  virtue  of  certain  intrinsic  qualities,  previ- 
ously discussed,  which  are  much  more  striking  than  ready- 
made  fitnesses.  It  is  because  living  creatures  are  irritable, 
persistent,  registrative,  variable,  and  so  on,  that  they  have 
been  able  to  evolve  in  a  consummately  adaptive  way.  This 
was,  of  course,  what  Charles  Kingsley  had  in  mind  in  his 
immortal  child's-story  when  he  put  into  the  mouth  of  Mother 
Carey  the  words :  "  I  make  things  make  themselves."  This 
is  a  very  different  view,  it  must  be  remarked,  from  that  of 
an  infinite  regress  of  automatic  machines,  with  no  original 
designer  at  all ;  for  this  does  not  seem  to  us  to  be  a  clearly 
conceivable  idea. 

Time  was  when  the  multitudinous  fitnesses  of  Animate 
J^ature  were  the  subject  of  admiring  wonder,  but  this  has 
shrivelled.  Surely,  however,  the  loss  of  wonder  is  not  alto- 
gether creditable.  If  an  adaptation  is  wrought  out  gi-adually 
by  a  co-operation  of  factors,  that  is  just  as  wonderful  as  a 
special  creation  at  the  hands  of  a  divine  artificer;  and 
it  is  more  intelligible.  And  even  if  the  process  of  evolving 
adaptations  should  turn  out  to  be  more  automatic  than  it 


330      ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

seems  to  us  to  have  been,  it  remains  very  wonderful  that 
living  creatures  should  be  so  adaptable,  should  have  so  rich 
a  capacity  of  supplying  the  raw  materials  for  adaptations. 

§  3.    Is  There  "^  Purpose'  in  the  Inorganic  Domain? 

Leaving  in  the  meantime  the  fact  of  almost  universal 
adaptiveness  in  the  realm  of  organisms,  let  us  turn  to  the 
difficult  problem  of  purpose.  In  the  inorganic  domain  we 
see  the  river  carving  its  course  in  the  rock,  the  wind  blowing 
the  snow  into  beautiful  wreaths,  the  various  weathering  proc- 
esses making  scenery,  but  these  results  are  not  adaptive  to 
a  future,  and  keeping  to  things  as  they  are,  we  feel  no  reason 
to  speak  of  purpose.  The  concept  of  purpose  is  irrelevant 
in  the  domain  of  the  inorganic  where  there  are  no  individu- 
alities and  no  alternatives,  but  rigorous  concatenation  and 
mechanical  necessitation  everywhere. 

The  hylozoist  beholding  the  stream,  flowing  like  an  endless 
snake,  may  point  to  its  enduring  purpose.  It  sweeps  some 
obstacles  away  and  patiently  undermines  others ;  it  bides  its 
time  with  patience  and  overflows  what  it  cannot  circumvent ; 
it  consents  to  sinuous  meanderings,  and  then,  on  a  day  of 
flood,  cuts  off  a  huge  salient;  it  will  even  submit  to  an 
apparent  death,  becoming  an  underground  current,  if  it  may 
thereby  accomplish  its  end  of  reaching  the  sea.  But  this 
remains  fanciful  and  unconvincing:  the  stream  is  not  a 
very  long  snake  nor  an  individuality  in  any  sense,  it  has 
no  alternative  in  anything  it  does;  it  is  not  in  the  true  sense 
an  agent. 

Two  saving  clauses  are  necessary.  It  is  obvious  that  the 
inorganic  domain  is  not  chaotic,  nor  incoherent,  nor  ineffec- 
tive. But  it  is  without  endeavour.  It  is  orderly  and  stable, 
made  to  last,  able  to  assume  forms  of  great  beauty,  with 


.  ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      331 

an  interesting  tendency  to  complexify  under  certain  condi- 
tions, but  it  does  not  reveal  any  resident  operative  purpose. 
It  will  be  understood  that  by  '  purpose  '  in  this  discussion 
we  mean  intention,  conative  endeavour,  anticipation  of  an 
end.  We  are  not  taking  account  of  the  employment  of  the 
word  to  denote  use  or  efficiency,  as  when  people  say  that 
the  purpose  of  the  elephant's  trunk  is  to  be  a  hand,  or  that 
a  man  worked  to  good  purpose. 

The  other  saving  clause  is,  that  we  are  not  at  present 
raising  the  question  of  the  part  that  the  inorganic  has  played 
in  the  world-wide  genetic  process  in  making  organisms  pos- 
sible, and  still  plays  in  affording  a  basis  for,  and  an  oppo- 
sition to  the  activities  of  organisms  and  personalities.  The 
way  in  which  a  cradle  and  a  home  for  organisms  was  made 
"  when  as  yet  there  was  none  of  them  "  is  very  remarkable 
(see  Henderson,  The  Order  of  Nature,  1917),  and  will  en- 
gage our  attention  later  on.  This  may  point  to  there  hav- 
ing been  a  purpose  in  the  institution  of  Nature,  but  not  to 
there  being  a  resident  operative  purpose  in  inorganic  trans- 
formations. 

§  4.    Pur^posefulness  and  Purposiveness  in  Human 

Behaviour, 

The  other  pole  is  to  be  found  in  human  affairs,  where 
purposefulness  dominates.  When  we  give  time  and  energy 
to  some  scheme  or  cause,  we  know  that  what  we  do  is  actu- 
ated by  a  clearly  conceived  purpose.  No  one  can  make  sense 
of  our  life  who  does  not  recognise  this,  even  if  he  call  it 
the  method  in  our  madness.  An  anticipation,  an  ideal,  with 
an  associated  tension  of  endeavour  and  glow  of  feeling,  does 
as  a  matter  of  fact  rule  our  will  on  many  occasions.  If 
this  conceived  purpose  is  not  real,  ''  with  hands  and  feet ", 


332     ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

we  may  abandon  the  possibility  of  either  philosophy  or 
science.  Our  life  is  at  its  highest  efficiency  when  it  is 
most  dominated  by  purpose,  when  there  is  least  of  ''  the  unlit 
lamp  and  the  ungirt  loin  ". 

At  a  slightly  lower  level,  however,  we  recognise  analogous 
facts.  We  prepare  for  months  to  build  a  rockery  in  our 
garden,  collecting  stones  and  tree-roots  and  such  like  in 
a  way  that  perplexes  our  next-door  neighbour,  who  is  not 
in  the  secret,  who  shakes  his  head  at  the  absence  of  purpose 
in  our  behaviour.  But  all  that  we  do  is  actuated  by  a  pur- 
pose, so  simple  that  we  may  call  it  perceptual,  to  form  in 
the  outer  world  an  actual  counterpart  of  a  pleasing  picture 
which  had  formed  itself,  as  we  say,  in  our  mind.  If  this 
perceived  purpose  is  not  real,  nothing  is  real.  A  mental 
anticipation  with  its  associated  desire  determines  our  be- 
haviour. 

We  feel  no  difficulty  in  the  fact  that  the  curious  can 
give,  if  he  will,  a  tolerably  complete  physiological  account 
of  our  various  activities  in  making  the  rockery — the  collect- 
ing, the  carrying,  the  digging,  and  the  building.  For  we 
know  that  however  complete  such  an  account  may  be  either 
at  the  chemico-physical  level,  or  at  the  physiological  level, 
it  never  comes  near  being  a  complete  scientific  account  until 
it  recognises  the  end  which  serves  "  as  a  point  of  connection 
for  a  plurality  of  causes ",  something  which  cannot  be 
measured  or  weighed — the  vision  of  the  rockery  as  desira- 
ble. Not  only  may  a  teleological  interpretation  be  put 
upon  our  behaviour ;  it  must  be  put  upon  it,  if  we  are  to 
give  a  scientific  description. 

There  are  many  difficulties  in  our  way  when  we  begin 
to  draw  conclusions  as  to  the  purposes  of  others,  but  there 
is  certainty  in  regard  to  our  own.     We  have  direct  experi- 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      333 

ence  of  a  clear  outlook  towards  the  future,  of  making  plans, 
of  desiring  ends,  of  deliberately  willing  to  realise  an  idea, 
of  bending  a  multitude  of  means,  often  with  some  difficulty, 
towards  a  definite  result,  and  so  on.  We  cannot  think  of 
it  without  the  concept  of  purpose.  It  is  not  merely  that 
we  put  this  finalistic  interpretation  on  our  conduct;  we 
know  that  our  purpose  actuates  our  conduct.  Among  the 
conditions  of  our  conduct  we  recognise  ideal  anticipations 
as  dominant.  As  Lloyd  Morgan  puts  it,  there  are  psycho- 
logical factors  which  we  name  "  prospective  significance  and 
interest ".  *'  Pre-perceptive  relationships  have  been  estab- 
lished and  highly  developed.  And  such  conscious  relation- 
ships count,  really  count,  every  whit  as  much  as  any  other 
natural  relationship.  They  are  not  merely  cpiphenomenal 
phosphorescence;  they  are  real  conditions  of  the  course  of 
the  process,  both  mental  and  bodily." 

We  must  admit,  then,  the  reality  of  purposeful  self-de- 
termination. It  is  not  that  a  psychical  entity,  called  a  pur- 
pose, functions;  it  is  rather  that  our  whole  organism  bends 
its  bow  in  a  particular  direction  and  that  we  know  this  on 
the  experiencing  side  as  our  conscious  purpose  and  strengthen 
it  in  knowing  it.  We  see,  then,  that  in  the  human  realm 
of  ends  the  concept  of  purpose  is  essential;  that  in  the  in- 
organic domain,  considered  in  itself,  it  is  irrelevant;  the 
question  is  as  to  the  intermediate  realm,  and  here  the  diffi- 
culties of  interpretation  are  great. 

This  question  of  purpose  is  more  or  less  clear  when  we 
are  dealing  with  ourselves,  but  it  becomes  much  more  diffi- 
cult when  we  pass  to  our  neighbours.  One  of  our  neighbours 
behaves  as  we  were  doing  and  we  credit  him  with  the  pur- 
pose of  making  a  rockery.  But  it  may  be  that  he  has  some 
other  purpose  in  view,  or  it  may  be  that  he  is  simply  imitat- 


334     ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

ing  us  with  a  confidence  that  the  result  will  be  worth  having. 
If  there  is  this  possibility  of  misinterpreting  purpose  within 
our  own  species,  how  careful  must  we  be  when  we  pass  to 
animal  behaviour. 

We  see  a  crofter  making,  year  after  year,  a  long  line 
of  the  stones  he  has  gathered  from  his  field.  We  infer  that 
he  is  arranging  them  so  as  to  be  least  inconvenient.  But 
one  day  he  digs  a  trench  beside  the  line  and  begins  to  lay 
the  biggest  blocks  solidly  within  it.  We  know  that  he  is 
going  to  build  a  wall.  Now  it  is  quite  possible  that  this 
purpose  was  not  in  his  mind  when  he  began,  and  did  not 
arise  until  the  line  of  stones  reached  certain  dimensions 
or  until  his  clearance  gave  him  a  little  leisure  to  think  of  a 
further  improvement.  This  idea  of  an  increasing  purpose 
seems  to  be  of  great  importance  in  Natural  History,  where 
a  secondary  end  often  appears  to  grow  out  of  a  primary 
one. 

We  inferred  that  the  crofter  was  building  a  wall  because 
we  could  not  make  sense  of  his  activity  on  any  other  assump- 
tion; we  argued  by  analogy  from  our  own  experience;  and 
if  we  knew  his  language  we  could  verify  our  interpretation 
by  asking  him  what  he  was  working  towards.  He  would 
tell  us  that  he  had  been  working  intermittently  for  years 
because  he  had  the  purpose  of  building  a  wall.  The  thought 
of  the  future  wall  was  something  actual  which  moved  the 
crofter  to  will  and  to  do.  The  thought  and  the  will  were 
in  a  real  sense  the  ground  of  necessity  of  the  wall,  not  less 
real  than  the  stones. 

But  the  convincingness  of  our  interpretation  of  the  crofter's 
actions  as  the  outcome  of  his  purpose  rests,  we  must  admit, 
on  our  recognition  of  him  as  a  fellow-countr_)Taan,  on  his 
own  assurance,  and  on  parallels  between  his  behaviour  and 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      335 

endeavours  within  our  own  experience.  How  careful  we 
must  be  in  regard  to  the  purposefulness  of  animals  who  are 
very  distantly  related,  whose  language — if  they  have  any — 
we  do  not  know,  whose  behaviour  is  cast  on  different  lines 
from  ours. 

When  we  see  a  blacksmith  take  a  twisted  shoe  from  a 
horse's  foot,  heat  it  in  the  fire,  hammer  it,  cool  it,  file  it, 
and  so  on,  we  know  from  the  very  first  what  his  purpose 
is,  and  we  understand  more  or  less  every  step  in  relation 
to  the  obvious  end.  But  if  we  watch  a  potter  or  a  glass 
blower  or  the  like  for  the  first  time  we  find  it  more  difficult 
from  what  wo  see  to  prove  that  he  is  not  amusing  himself; 
he  does  things  that  we  do  not  see  the  meaning  of;  he  ends 
just  at  the  last  moment  by  turning  out  something  which 
we  did  not  expect.  There  is  here  the  warning  that  a  sequence 
may  be  actuated  by  purpose  through  and  through  although 
we  do  not  recognise  the  domination — not  even  when  we  know 
the  end. 

§  5.    Purposiveness  and  Purposefulness  in  Anirnal 

Behaviour, 

Let  us  pass  to  animal  behaviour.  When  a  dog  hides  an 
unfinished  bone  in  a  very  unusual  place ;  when  Lord  Ave- 
bury's  dog  Van  goes  to  its  box  and  brings  out  and  arranges 
the  letters  T-E-A ;  when  rooks  take  fresh-water  mussels  to 
a  great  height  and  let  them  fall  on  the  shingle  beneath  so 
that  they  are  broken;  when  a  mother  weasel,  accompanied 
by  one  of  her  offspring,  about  to  be  overtaken  on  the  links, 
seizes  the  youngster  in  her  mouth,  dashes  on  ahead,  and  lays 
it  in  a  sandy  hole;  when  beavers  cut  a  canal  right  throngh 
a  large  island  in  a  river;  when  mares,  some  pa^t  foaling, 
unite  to  lift  up  between   them   a   number  of  foals  on   the 


336     ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

occasion  of  a  great  flood,  and  so  on,  we  say,  with  probable 
accuracy,  that  the  creature  was  actuated  by  a  definite  pur- 
pose, by  some  sort  of  intention,  by  some  anticipation  of  an 
end.  The  validity  of  this  undemonstrable  conclusion  de- 
pends (1)  on  the  need  of  assuming  some  degree  of  purpose 
as  the  connecting  thread  which  binds  together  the  series  of 
acts,  and  (2)  on  what  we  know  in  other  ways  of  the  creature's 
psychological  analogy  with  ourselves.  If  the  acts  composing 
the  chain  are  discontinuous,  the  need  for  postulating  a  bond 
of  purpose  is  particularly  evident.  If  the  creature  has  a 
fine  brain  at  a  high  structural  level,  as  we  know  to  be  the 
case  with  dogs,  horses,  elephants,  and  the  like,  the  legitimacy 
of  inferring  an  actuating  purpose  is  the  more  probable.  It 
may  well  be  that  the  purpose  is  not  of  the  same  nature  as 
our  purpose  when  we  begin  a  day  with  the  intention  of 
economising  our  energies  at  every  turn  for  a  difficult  task 
to-morrow,  or  of  converting  as  many  people  as  possible  to  an 
acceptance  of  methodological  vitalism.  It  may  be  that  the 
animal's  ^  purpose '  is  only  a  concrete  picture  with  an  asso- 
ciated desire, — a  cognitive  disposition  at  a  perceptual  level 
and  an  associated  conative  disposition.  So  it  is  sometimes 
in  mankind,  especially  in  childhood.  But  it  will  still  be 
legitimate  to  describe  the  behaviour  as  purposeful,  though 
the  purpose  was  not  a  conceived  purpose.  For  we  mean  by 
purpose  an  intention  of  the  organism,  involving  a  perceptual 
or  conceptual  anticipation  of  a  desired  end. 

Difficulties  in  making  sure  that  an  actuating  purpose  is 
at  work  begin  whenever  "we  pass  from  ourselves  to  our 
neighbours ;  they  increase  when  we  pass  to  big-brained  higher 
animals;  they  go  on  increasing  when  we  pass  to  cases  like 
that  of  a  bird  building  a  nest.  The  bird  goes  through  a 
certain   routine   of   collecting   and    interweaving   materials, 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      :j;i7 

of  lining  the  interior  with  feathers — there  may  be  over  two 
thousand  of  them, — of  covering  the  outside  with  lichens 
which  make  the  nest  almost  invisible  on  the  bough.  There 
is  no  doubt  as  to  the  adaptiveness  of  the  chain  of  acts;  it 
seems  clear  that  the  work  is  without  justification  until  it 
is  finished;  we  cannot  make  sense  of  the  prolonged  activity 
unless  we  see  the  whole  in  the  light  of  the  final  result  which 
is  of  great  value  to  the  individual  bird,  to  the  nestlings,  and 
to  the  species  in  question.  But  we  are  no  longer  so  certain 
that  the  bird's  behaviour  is  actuated  by  perceived  purpose. 
We  may  know,  for  instance,  that  the  bird  never  made  a 
nest  or  laid  an  egg  before;  we  know  that  there  is  a  remark- 
able rigidity  in  the  routine  which  sometimes  detracts  from 
its  effectiveness;  and  that  there  are  occasional  aberrations 
which  suggest  that  the  bird  is  not  quite  on  the  spot.  In 
other  words,  we  are  watching  an  instinctive  routine  with  a 
spice  of  intelligence.  How  far  are  we  warranted  in  saying 
that  it  is  actuated  by  purpose?  Can  there  be  purpose  which 
is  not  clearly  perceived  ?  We  propose  to  rank  all  such  cases 
under  the  rubric  ^  purposiveness '.  It  implies  in  the  bird's 
case  a  determined  endeavour,  obedience  to  an  inborn  inspira- 
tion modified  by  intelligence,  but  we  are  not  sure  how  far 
the   end   is   in   view. 

Returning  to  the  observations  of  Prof.  J.  B.  Watson  and 
Dr.  K.  S.  Lashley  on  homing  terns,  we  have  to  interpret  such 
facts  as  these.  A  number  of  brooding  terns  are  conveyed  in 
hooded  cages  on  board  ship  for  over  four  hundred  miles 
from  the  nesting  island;  they  are  liberated  in  the  middle 
of  the  sea  beyond  all  hint  of  land ;  they  set  off  at  once  for 
home  against  a  head  wind ;  some  of  them  roach  home  safely. 
How  they  succeeded  we  do  not  know;  whether  they  are  in- 
fluenced by  magnetic  currents  and  the  like  we  do  not  knowj 


338     ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

but  this  we  do  know,  that  they  are  going  back  to  their  nests. 
The  nesting  impulse  remains  strong  for  two  or  three  weeks, 
and  this  gives  an  illuminating  significance  to  the  homing 
of  these  sea-swallows.  They  are  returning  to  activities  in 
which  their  life  reaches  its  climax,  to  the  continuance  of 
which  they  are  urged  by  a  deep  organic  impulse,  by  an 
irresistible  will  which  is  not  readily  baulked. 

But  difficulties  increase  when  we  pass  to  the  field  of  purely 
or  predominantly  instinctive  behaviour  among  animals  ^  of 
the  little  brain  type  ',  such  as  ants  and  bees.  We  see  numer- 
ous acts  dovetailed  in  a  series,  correlated  in  a  definite  se- 
quence which  leads  to  a  useful  result.  We  cannot  make  the 
behaviour  intelligible  without  saying:  "Somehow  or  other 
these  several  acts  have  been  concatenated  in  relation  to  an 
end."  But  in  what  sense  can  we  say  that  a  bee  on  its 
first  honey-collecting  expedition  is  actuated  by  a  purpose? 
We  dare  not  suppose  a  conceived  purpose  and  we  cannot 
clearly  think  in  this  case  of  a  perceived  purpose,  for  the  bee 
is  operating  effectively  in  a  world  previously  unknown  to  it. 
What  kind  of  purpose  can  there  be  ?  We  shall  speak  of 
instinctive  purposiveness,  differing  from  perceptual  purpose- 
fulness  in  the  probable  absence  of  any  clear  vision  of  the 
end. 

Here  we  have  to  include  the  extraordinary  cases  where  the 
individual  works  resolutely  towards  a  goal  which  it  never 
experiences.  Many  Digger-wasps,  for  instance,  make  elab- 
orate preparations  for  ofi*spring  which  they  never  survive  to 
see.  Since  social  wasps  are  geologically  ancient  it  is  reason- 
able to  suppose  that  their  behaviour  originated  in  the  distant 
past  when  the  ancestors  of  our  present-day  species  did  survive 
to  see  their  progeny.  Originally,  on  this  supposition,  whether 
the  primitive  behaviour  arose  as  an    intelligent    new    de- 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      339 

parture  (as  some  would  say)  which  was  hereditarily  added 
on  to  the  instinctive  patrimony  of  the  race,  or  arose  as  a 
germinal  mutation  (as  we  would  say)  which  was  intelligently 
tested  and  approved  of  in  the  individual  lifetime,  it  is  not 
far-fetched  to  suppose  that  it  was  justified  to  the  individual 
in  some  measure  of  satisfaction.  The  mothers  saw  their 
children,  which  is  more  than  they  do  now. 

The  difficulty  is  to  understand  the  present-day  implicit 
obedience  to  the  voice  of  the  distant  past,  to  see  how  an 
elaborate  piece  of  instinctive  routine  which  does  not  justify 
itself  to  its  possessor  can  retain  its  imperious  inertia  through 
the  ages.  Probably  some  sop  unknown  to  us  is  given  to 
the  individual's  interests  and  satisfactions.  It  may  be,  for 
instance,  that  parental  instincts  have  become  in  some  cases 
linked  on  to  conjugal  instincts,  reverberations  of  which 
continue  to  give  meaning  and  interest  to  parental  care  whose 
reward  is  nowadays  never  experienced.  But  the  problem 
of  making  for  an  unseen  goal  is  a  very  difficult  one. 

Since  this  was  written  our  suggestion  of  an  individual 
*  sop  '  has  been  strikingly  confirmed  by  the  observations  of 
Roubaud  and  of  Wheeler.  For  certain  tropical  wasps 
Roubaud  has  shown  that  the  queens  and  workers  receive  from 
the  grubs,  which  they  assiduously  tend  and  feed,  small  quan- 
tities of  a  secreted  elixir  of  which  they  are  extraordinarily 
fond.  For  certain  kinds  of  ants  Wheeler  has  shown  that 
there  is  a  similar  give  and  take  (trophallaxis)  between  the 
workers  and  the  grubs.  The  workers  feed  the  grubs  with 
chewed  flesh,  but  they  receive  from  their  charges  a  douceur  of 
secretion  which  seems  to  keep  them  in  good  heart. 

But  we  cannot  draw  a  line  at  instinctive  creatures  like 
ants  and  bees,  where  the  complexity  of  the  brain  gives  us 
some  warrant  for  postulating  ideational   processes.     There 


340     ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

•  is  hardly  less  effective  purposelike  behaviour  in  animals 
with  no  nerve-ganglia  at  all.  Onr  typical  case,  already 
described,  is  the  struggle  between  the  brainless  starfish  and 
the  brainless  sea-urchin.  Here  we  have  a  long  series  of 
difficult  operations,  not  in  the  line  of  least  resistance,  not 
habitual,  not  a  sequence  of  tropisms  or  reflexes,  but  a  cor- 
related behaviour-chain.  Can  we  avoid  saying  that  the  star- 
fish shows  endeavour?  We  do  not  dream  of  calling  it  pur- 
poseful, but  is  it  in  any  way  purposive  ?  We  have  to  remem- 
ber that  the  starfish  has  no  nerve-ganglia.  It  has  diffusely 
scattered  neurons,  a  line  of  them  up  each  arm,  and  a  pen- 
tagon uniting  these  lines  around  the  mouth.  But  there  is 
no  concentration  into  ganglia,  and  therefore  we  must  be  very 
parsimonious  in  our  use  of  mental  terms.  We  propose  to 
speak  of  this  sort  of  purposelike  behaviour  as  illustrating 
organic  purposiveness,  organised  endeavour. 

Summing  up  to  this  point,  we  find  that  a  modicum  of 
purpose  or  intention  is  to  be  recognised  over  a  very  wide 
range,  that  it  is  a  vera  causa  that  counts,  that  we  are  not  at 
liberty  to  take  it  or  leave  it,  that  it  must  enter  into  the 
scientific  description.  It  probably  represents  in  all  cases 
an  organismal  summarising  of  past  experiences  in  such  a 
Avay  that  a  definite  endeavour  is  engendered,  and  behaviour 
is  effectively  dominated.  But  it  tends  to  clearness  to  distin- 
guish conceptual  purposefulness  in  man's  conduct,  perceptual 
purposefulness  in  the  intelligent  behaviour  of  man  and  some 
animals,  instinctive  purposiveness  in  the  routine  behaviour 
of  ants  and  bees,  and  organic  purposiveness  in  the  controlled 
and  experimental  endeavours  of  brainless  animals, — even 
in  the  architectural  achievements  of  the  arenaceous 
Foraminifera. 

We  began   with   deliberate    purposefulness    and    worked 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      341 

downwards;  but  deliberate  purposefulness  is  a  lofty  spe- 
cialisation of  organic  purposiveness.  Without  implying  too 
hard  and  fast  boundary  lines,  we  suggest  that  the  w^rd  pur- 
poseful be  kept  for  actions  in  which  there  is  conscious  antic- 
ipation of  the  constraining  end.  The  common  note  in  pur- 
poseful or  purposive  behaviour  is  that  of  the  individuality 
or  total  reaction  of  the  organism.  When  the  organism  as  a 
whole  works  towards  a  future  result  which  is  not  immediate, 
there  is  purpose  in  some  form  or  other.  Where  the  concept 
of  purpose  or  intention  is  applied  beyond  the  category  of 
individuality  there  is  bound  to  be  confusion  of  thought,  and 
care  must  be  taken  not  to  use  it  to  denote  the  end  which  a 
particular  collocation  subserves  or  the  utility  which  any 
particular  collocation  may  have  in  the  economy  of  Nature. 

§  6.    The  Purposelikeness  of  the  Ordinary  Functioning  of 
the  Body  is  Covered  hy  the  Concept  of  Adaptation. 

The  organism^s  behaviour  as  a  whole  is  fundamentally 
purposelike.  It  makes  for  self-preservation  and  race- 
preservation  in  the  widest  sense.  It  may,  on  occasions,  ex- 
hibit self-determination,  selection,  and  control  with  reference 
to  a  distant  result.  In  higher  animals,  purpose  probably 
operates,  as  in  man,  as  a  cognitive  anticipation  of  the  future ; 
in  lower  animals  the  nervous  system  is  so  different  that  we 
dare  not  argue  from  analogy  as  to  the  degree  of  awareness 
with  which  the  conative  bow  is  bent. 

It  appears  probable  that  activities  originally  dominated 
by  clearly  perceived  purpose,  may,  by  individual  habitua- 
tion or  by  germinal  variation,  sink  to  a  lower  level  of  or- 
ganised purposiveness.  Not  only  the  bending  of  the  conative 
bow,  but  the  hitting  of  the  mark,  becomes  part  of  the  or- 
ganisation, it  may  be  part  of  the  inheritance,  part  of  the 


342      ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

organism's  ready-made  self.  The  organism  as  a  whole 
hardly  requires  to  keep  its  hand  on  the  reins,  purpose  has  be- 
come implicit.  There  are  disadvantages  in  this,  for  the  fixity 
sometimes  leads  to  quaint  mistakes,  but  it  spells  economy 
and  allows  more  freedom  for  direct  or  individual  purposive 
or  purposeful  endeavours  and  experiments.  Just  as  we  need 
the  uniformity  of  the  inorganic  domain  as  a  reliable  fulcrum 
for  our  efforts,  so  the  uniformity  of  organised  or  implicit 
purposiveness,  besides  saving  organismal  energy,  may  serve 
as  a  trustworthy  stepping-stone  to  higher  things. 

When  we  observe  an  intricate  machine  with  many  regula- 
tive adjustments,  such  as  saferty-valves,  we  are  impressed 
with  its  efficiency  and  purposelikeness.  But  we  credit  its 
maker  with  purpose,  not  itself;  the  concept  does  not  grip. 
It  is  a  confusion  of  thought  to  speak  of  a  torpedo  or  a  solar 
system  being  actuated  by  purpose.  Only  an  organism  or  a 
higher  form  of  Being  can  have  a  purpose. 

Similarly  in  regard  to  the  smooth  working  of  the  organs 
of  a  complex  animal  and  even  the  orderly  development  of 
the  same  we  are  inclined  to  say  that  the  appropriate  term 
is  adaptive  not  purposive.  The  concept  of  adaptation  suffices 
for  the  fact  that  in  ordinary  functioning  "  the  whole  and  the 
parts  are,  as  it  were,  reciprocally  ends  to  each  other  ".  The 
harmonious  functioning  and  development  are  the  outcome 
of  an  organisation  gradually  wrought  out  through  ages  and 
are  exhibited  whenever  suitable  liberating  stimuli  are  pres- 
ent. We  need  not  here  introduce  the  concept  of  actuating 
purpose  in  any  form. 

But  it  seems  legitimate  to  lay  emphasis  on  the  view  which 
we  have  tried  to  substantiate  that  the  adaptive  organisation 
did  not  come  about  mechanically,  that  it  has  behind  it  a 
long  history  in  which  germinal  variability  and  organic  pur- 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      ;34;i 

posiveness  have  played  an  important  part,  and  that  even 
when  it  may  be  said  that  variability  shuffles  the  cards  blindly, 
it  is  incumbent  on  the  individual  to  play  the  game  intelli- 
gently if  it  means  to  win. 

Moreover,  in  the  regulatory  self-adjustment  of  the  or- 
ganism when  functioning  or  development  has  been  badly 
disturbed,  in  the  activity,  within  the  body,  of  independent 
mobile  elements  like  phagocytes,  in  the  regeneration  of  a 
lost  lens  from  a  tissue  which  does  not  normally  give  rise  to 
one,  we  get  just  a  glimpse  of  a  residual  organic  purposiveness, 
though  that  has  been  as  a  whole  resigned  in  favour  of  very 
perfect   and    thoroughgoing   organisation. 

What  is  meant  by  saying  that  the  organism  is  essentially 
purposive,  or  that  it  has  an  essentially  teleological  or  finalist 
aspect?  This  is  meant,  that  the  whole  life  expresses  a  ten- 
dency to  persist,  that  the  whole  life  is  adapted  towards  self- 
preservation  and  self-expression.  And  if  it  be  said  that 
this  adaptedness  is  the  outcome  of  ages  of  mechanical  varia- 
tion and  selection,  the  answer  is  that  neither  variation  nor 
selection  can  be  adequately  described  as  mechanical. 

§  7.    Provisional  Conclusion  and  Anticipation. 

We  have  been  necessarily  much  concerned  with  the  out- 
works, and  there  remain  many  imperfectly  answered  ques- 
tions. What,  in  the  world-becoming  as  a  whole,  is  the  signi- 
ficance in  the  largest  sense  of  the  inorganic  domain  in  its  in- 
tricacy and  splendour,  of  the  myriads  of  invisible  Protists,  of 
the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  plants,  of  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence, of  the  prodigious  mortality,  of  the  age-long  genetic  proc- 
ess with  all  its  groaning  and  travailing?  To  such  questions 
we  shall  return  in  our  study  of  Organic  Evolution,  conscious 
that  behind  them  there  loom  others — If  Nature  be  Nature 


344.     ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

for  a  purpose,  what  is  that  purpose?  If  there  be  design 
"what  does  it  promise? 

The  general  outcome  of  the  present  discussion  is  an  ap- 
preciation not  only  of  the  pervasiveness  of  mentality  in  the 
realm  of  organisms,  but  of  all-penetrating  purpose  as  well. 
Looking  back  imaginatively  on  the  course  of  evolution,  we 
have  seen  the  emergence  of  an  aspect  of  reality  which  we 
call  Life,  and  another  aspect  of  reality  which  we  call  Mind, 
now  we  are  getting  glimpses  of  the  emergence  of  another 
aspect  of  reality  which  we  call  Purpose.  Of  this  we  shall 
get  a  larger  view  when  we  come  to  consider  the  evolutionary 
process  as  a  whole. 

In  the  meantime,  however,  we  have  gained  something. 
For  while  there  may  be  difference  of  opinion  as  to  terms 
and  concepts,  it  has  become  increasingly  clear  that  animals, 
and  plants  too,  are  creatures  with  purposeful  or  purposive 
lives,  and  are  not  to  be  banished  from  the  Realm  of  Ends. 
This  enriches  our  conception  of  life.  It  is  a  contribution 
towards  a  Philosophy  of  ItTature.  It  makes  our  view  of 
Nature  and  our  view  of  Human  Life  more  conformable. 

In  any  case  we  trust  that  our  study  so  far  may  have  con- 
tributed to  a  deeper  appreciation  of  the  Realm  of  Organisms, 
in  which  we  are,  to  say  the  least,  no  aliens.  We  have  sought 
to  envisage  the  variety  of  life — hundreds  of  thousands  of 
distinct  individualities  or  species;  the  abundance  of  life, — 
like  a  river  always  tending  to  overflow  its  banks;  the  dif- 
fusion of  life, — exploring  and  exploiting  every  corner  of  land 
and  sea;  the  insurgence  of  life, — self-assertive,  persistent, 
defiant,  continually  achieving  the  apparently  impossible; 
the  cyclical  development  of  life, — ever  passing  from  birth, 
through  love,  to  death;  the  intricacy  of  life, — every  cell  a 
microcosm;  the  subtlety  of  life, — every  drop  of  blood  an 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      345 

index  of  idiosyncrasies;  the  inter-relatedness  of  life, — with 
myriad  threads  woven  in  a  patterned  web ;  the  drama  of  life, 
— plot  within  plot,  age  after  age,  with  every  conceivable 
illustration  of  the  twin  motives  of  hunger  and  love;  the 
flux  of  life, — even  under  our  short-lived  eyes;  the  progress 
of  life, — slowly  creeping  upwards  through  unthinkable  time, 
expressing  itself  in  ever  nobler  forms ;  the  beauty  of  life, — 
every  finished  organism  an  artistic  harmony;  the  morality 
of  life, — spending  itself  to  the  death  for  other  than  individ- 
ual ends;  the  mentality  of  life, — sometimes  quietly  dream- 
ing, sometimes  sleep-walking,  sometimes  widely-awake;  and 
the  victory  of  life, — subduing  material  things  to  its  will,  and 
in  its  highest  reaches  controlling  itself  towards  an  increasing 
purpose. 

It  is  something  to  have  found  warrant  for  regarding  the 
Realm  of  Organisms  as  pervaded  with  active  purposiveness. 
At  a  later  stage  in  the  argument  we  shall  show  that  there  is 
at  least  a  presumption  in  favour  of  the  view  that  Nature  is 
!N'ature  for  a  purpose — an  increasing  and  transcendent  pur- 
pose. At  this  stage  it  seems  as  if  part  of  that  purpose  were 
the  emergence  of  individuality,  mind,  freedom,  purpose. 
This  thrilling  word  purpose,  expressing  the  most  real  fact 
in  our  personal  experience,  brings  us  at  this  half-way  house 
to  our  provisional  conclusion  which  is,  we  confess,  too  large 
for  the  premises,  that  individualities  with  mind,  with  free- 
dom, and  with  purpose,  cannot  be  accounted  for  in  terms  of 
a  ground  of  reality  without  mind,  without  freedom,  without 
purpose.  Therefore  let  us  humbly  seek  after,  if  haply  we 
may  find,  more  than  the  footprints  of  the  Creator,  who  be- 
holding all  the  works  of  His  hands  found  them  good  for 
His  purpose.  ^  ^^V^v 


3J^      ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS 

SUBillARY. 

Our  consideration  of  the  realm  of  organisms  has  shown  us  the 
apartness  of  living  creatures  and  how  they  transcend  mechanical 
and  dynamical  formulation,  the  important  role  played  by  behaviour 
with  a  definitely  mental  aspect,  the  pervasiveness  of  beauty,  and 
the  large  proportion  of  time  and  energy  devoted  to  activities  which 
make  not  for  self-presers^ation  but  for  race-welfare.  We  find,  in 
fact,  in  Animate  Nature  far-reaching  correspondences  to  our  ideals 
of  the  True,  the  Beautiful,  and  the  Good, — which  suggest  a  re- 
habilitation of  Natural  Theology. 

Taking  a  wide  sweej)  we  gain  another  great  impression — that 
of  almost  universal  adaptiveness.  Every  living  creature  is  a  bundle 
of  adaptations.  It  matters  comparatively  little  that  we  are  to  some 
extent  able  to  describe  the  process  by  which  these  adaptations  have 
arisen  (the  imperfections  of  this  description  to  be  considered  later), 
for  the  basal  fact  remains  that  living  creatures  have  had  the  capacity 
of  evolving  thus  adaptively.  The  adaptiveness  depends  on  intrinsic 
qualities,  previously  discussed,  which  are  more  striking  than  ready- 
made  fitnesses. 

Adaptations  may  be  classified  as: — (1)  structural  arrangements 
with  internal  or  external  reference,  (2)  co-ordinating  functional 
adjustments  of  a  special  sort,  including  regulatory  integrations,  and 
(3)  inter-organismal  adaptations.  The  result  of  the  last  is  a  sys- 
tematisation  or  co-ordination  of  lives,  world-wide  in  its  scope,  and 
often  extraordinarily  subtle  in  its  accomplishment. 

In  the  inorganic  domain  we  find  rigorous  concatenation,  a  domi- 
nance of  mechanical  necessitation.  There  are  no  unique  individual- 
ities, no  alternatives;  and  the  concept  of  purpose  is  irrelevant  (except 
when  we  are  thinking  of  the  significance  of  the  evolutionary  trend 
as  a  whole).  On  the  other  hand,  in  the  human  realm  of  ends,  ideal 
anticipations  are  dominant.  Our  conduct  implies  purposeful  self- 
determination.  There  is  no  difficulty  until  we  begin  to  consider 
the  realm  of  organisms, — between  the  inorganic  and  the  human. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  organism  as  a  whole  is  characteristically 
purposive, — "  a  unity  in  which  the  whole  and  the  parts  are  recip- 
rocally ends  to  each  other''.  It  shows  some  measure  of  self-deter- 
mination; its  behaviour  is  regulatory,  selective,  controlled;  the 
activities  of  its  parts  are  correlated  in  reference  to  the  preservation 
and  continuance  of  the  individual  and  the  race.     The  development 


ADAPTIVENESS  AND  PURPOSIVENESS      347 

is  also  purposive  tlirough  and  through.  And  if  it  be  said  that  in 
all  this  the  organism  is  merely  obeying  its  hereditary  constitution 
adapted  to  react  to  an  appropriate  environment,  it  must  be  observed 
that  this  hereditary  constitution  is  determined  by  the  selection  of 
variations,  many  of  which  seem  like  experiments  in  self-expression, 
and  that  all  the  innate  variations  are,  so  to  speak,  cards  which 
have  to  be  played  by  organismal  endeavour.  This  endeavour  is  ipso 
facto  purposive  and  is  along  the  lines  of  previous  play  in  some 
measure  selected  by  the  organism. 

Passing  above  what  may  be  called  organised  purposiveness,  we 
may  recognise  instinctive  purposiveness,  often  with  its  paradoxical 
quality  of  making  towards  a  goal  which  the  individual  never  ex- 
periences. At  a  higher  level,  among  intelligent  animals,  it  becomes 
possible  to  speak  of  a  perceived  purpose — an  imaging  of  the  end 
which  has  compelling  force.  Thus  we  are  led  to  an  appreciation 
not  only  of  the  perv'asiveness  of  mentality  in  the  realm  of  organisms, 
but  of  the  all-penetrating  purposiveness  as  well. 


